Hearts Of Glass
by goldnote
Summary: After joining an all male drum corps, Laura finds out what love, life, and music really means. But, what is going to happen when they find out she's not what they think she is? Rated T.
1. Prelude

_This is just a one shot I thought of really late at night. I was going to add this onto From Across The Field, but I thought that was great as a stand alone. This really has nothing to do with that story, anyway. I'm not sure how long it's going to be, if it's going to be a one shot or evolve into a few chapters, but this idea just unfolds as it goes. I know I have a lot of marching fics, but I really like to write marching fics! Don't worry, everyone, I always finish what I start! It might take me a while, but I like stories and I like when people read them! Here we go..._

**

* * *

Prelude**

It was her first marching show and Laura was so excited that she was practically jumping out of her seat. The bleachers were warm in the midsummer heat, the sun going down over the hill behind the stadium with all the intensity of a fire, a bright globe that was falling slowly, to crash and extinguish the natural light, cuing the stadium lights to flicker on and light the field.

With her best friend next to her, Laura watched the bands take the field, each one better than the other. Night fell swiftly and soon she became cold, but the fire in her heart was just growing, becoming stronger than that summer sun that had just disappeared from view. This was love, this was life, this was music.

Finally, a band took the field, the band Laura had heard about from her director. Their uniforms were so sharp and their faces were hidden by the brims of their hats, feathers rippling in a slight breeze that make Laura shiver. This power, this raw beauty: this was what she wanted to never stop, even though they were simply marching onto the field. A professional drum and brass band, a band that traveled the country and had such high standards that even the most seasoned brass player or top percussionist couldn't gain an easy admission.

The majors took the field and started the show, Laura's eyes never blinking as she gasped and awed over the band. The first movement was powerful, stunning, mind blowing. It was like nothing she had ever heard. The precision was amazing, every movement snappy and perfect, everything exceeding perfection, even. It was something untouchable, for fear of getting cut. Laura gasped as the members practically glided across the field, their strength overwhelming the entire audience, not just Laura.

Then, just as Laura doubted she could take one more minute of the intense emotion, the movement changed into something floating, something beautiful, something so beautiful Laura was moved to tears. Her friend elbowed her in the ribs, but Laura ignored her. The tears in her eyes prevented her from seeing the show as she had before, but Laura did her best to wipe them away. The music was so touching and heartfelt, Laura felt like sobbing into her hands in front of everyone.

As the last note faded away into the summer night, Laura watched the drum majors march to the front of the field and salute. She looked at them closely, eager to see who the masters of this amazing band were, and, as she peered at them, one looked back. Laura found she couldn't breathe as he glanced at her; it was just a second, hardly that, but Laura was changed forever.

This was her calling. This was what she had to do. She wanted to march. She wanted to meet the major who had glanced back at her, breaking the rules to look at her, just one person in the whole world, even though she had been as quiet as the breeze itself. Laura sighed and took in a shaky breath.

What was this all about?

_

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What do you think? Please leave me a review so I know if I should make this a long story or a short story! Thanks so much!_


	2. Problems

_Hello there! I wanted to update this story quickly so that people wouldn't lose interest and so that I could develop some more plot. I'm not sure how long I am going to make these chapters, I usually like to keep chapters short and easy to read, but I might stretch them out later on. Thanks and please, please leave me a review! _

_Oh, if there really is a "Knight Drum and Bugle Corp," I'm sorry! I don't think there is, but I'll go and double check. I really don't think there is, but... I am a huge corps fan, and I've never heard of the "Knights." I don't mean to sound like any other band out there; this is supposed to be fictional, but based off of numerous other drum corps, sort off. I think you understand what I'm talking about... anyway, here we go._

**

* * *

Problems**

"Well, the season went great!" exclaimed the director of the drum corps.

"Tyler, that sucked! Everything was awful! We placed third at finals!" the drum major complained, practically throwing his mashed potatoes on his plate.

It was the banquet the drum corps held every year after finals, the annual pig-out being the highlight of most of the guy's season in the band. Finals had been the previous day and the group had taken third, an unheard of position for the Knights. They always the top of their division and, if they didn't take first at the championship show, always took a close second. However, things had taken a turn for the worst after half their trumpet players had came down with the flu and were not able to march in the last show, causing the corp to nearly be disqualified. Things had looked disastrous after two of the star percussionists, twin brothers, had to leave for a family emergency, finding out about their uncle's death just a day before the championship performance. It was a wonder how they even managed to catch third.

"Don't call me by my first name in front of the rest of the band," hissed Mr. Deleyney. "Jake, I thought you would know better."

"Sorry, Mr. Deleyney," muttered the drum major, glancing around the auditorium for the assistant drum major, Thomas. He found Thomas in the back of the auditorium, sitting on the floor, even though the director's table was on the opposite end of the room.

"Hey, Mr. D., could you take my plate up to the table? I need to get Thomas," Jake asked, not waiting for an answer as he pushed his plate into Mr. Deleyney and strode to the back of the gym.

"Hey, man, what are you doing back here? We're supposed to be up there, you know?"

"I know," Thomas muttered, his arms dangling over his knees. The pale haired nineteen year old with the startling blue eyes had been in a poor mood ever since the judges had handed the him the award for third place at finals the other day. Jake rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"Look, Thomas, I know how you feel. This sucks. This bites. Being third is not that bad, though-"

"The Knights are not third place material," interrupted Thomas, clenching his hands into fists, his face turning red.

"Knock it off, man!"

The some of the nearby corp members looked to where their drum majors were, Jake towering over Thomas, who was sulking on the floor.

"Now get a grip and come with me up to the table," said Jake, his voice considerably lower. "We need to be up there for the announcements. We're still leaders, okay, no matter if the season is over or not. We can still stand strong! But, I don't see a drum major standing strong right now. I see a weak marching band member who is complaining of not winning what he wanted. Be a man and come with me."

Thomas's eyes flashed as he looked up at Jake, who was as serious as he would be on the field. Jake grabbed Thomas's hands and pulled him to his feet, his deathly serious face twisting into a smug grin.

"Or at least pretend to be a man. Let's go and eat."

* * *

"Deleyney, we need an answer on this," said the color guard director, sitting across from the music director on one of the charter buses. Tyler hung up the phone and looked Paul in the face.

"I just don't see how we can do it. Yeah, we're in debt, and this money would help, but we just can't accept-"

"So what are you going to do, Tyler? Turn down the money the foundation is offering because you can't meet the requirements, or lose the money the foundation is offering because you won't meet the requirements?"

"We are an all male drum corps! Accepting a girl would cause problems for everyone. We'd get the money, but imagine all the other problems that would spring up once we have the debt settled! Paul, would you take that risk?"

"I would talk to Peter about it, personally, because it's not so much about whether a girl could play as if the girl could march. I'm just the color guard guy, Deleyney; I really have no say in this matter."

"But, if the band proper loses the funding, then the color guard is no use without a band. For the color guard to exist, the rest of the corp needs to exist."

There was silence for a moment, the bus stuffy in the late August heat. Paul looked at Tyler for an answer.

"Come on, we're both almost forty. We should be doing something else besides playing marching band with a bunch of boys," muttered Tyler, focusing his gaze out the window behind the color guard director.

"So, you're saying that you would let the debt take us under and just give up? We've won so many awards! We are-"

"But what's the cost? Apparently we can't afford it! The lawsuit took all of that away; we're lucky the corp still exists."

"Tyler, that was an accident, you remember that! I don't know the band boys as well as the color guard, but I do know that these problems need to go away for them to keep going. We have the best musicians in the entire organization! Imagine how the other corps would laugh if we disbanded now?"

Tyler gave Paul a look and Paul bit his lip.

"Bad joke, sorry. I didn't mean it like that..."

"So, what do I do? Do I call them back and tell them that we'll accept any interested females for the money, or do I pass the funding onto the next corp and try to struggle though another season?"

"You know as well as I do that we won't make it through another season. We hardly have the money to get home, much less money for auditioning in a few weeks. You have to pick. I'm going to go and see how the feast is going. I hope Jake and Thomas have the group pretty well under control."

Paul left the bus, leaving Tyler Deleyney alone with his thoughts.

Finally, he dialed the number on his phone and agreed to the terms of the funding available: they would have to gain at least one female member in order for the corps to keep marching on.

_

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What do you think? Hehe. I really like this story so far! Thanks for reading and please review!_


	3. Determination

_I wanted to write a little and I figured that this story would be the right one to update! I want to get it going! Hehe!_

**

* * *

Determination**

Laura picked up her trumpet and looked it over. It was not the prettiest thing she had ever seen, her flute was by far the superior in looks, but she didn't care about the way the instrument looked. She cared about how well she sounded.

She had not picked the instrument up in months, although she had won contests on it for years. She had put it down to pick up the flute, something her mother had always wanted her to try. The trumpet had a special place in Laura's heart, though, and as she raised it to her lips, she grew nervous. What if the embouchure she had for the flute had ruined her trumpet skills? Damn her for putting the trumpet away for so long... Laura put the trumpet down and took a deep breath. She was afraid to play a single note for fear she was going to sound awful.

She had taken a look at the website the Knights had put on the Internet and had everything planned out. Her parents had been contemplating sending her away over the next summer, anyway, and after she had brought up the drum corps idea, they were only too pleased to encourage her. The cost was not cheap to be a Knight: between uniform fees and food and travel fees, Laura wondered how she was going to manage it. There went all her money she had saved over the past year and a half, Laura told herself. Just auditioning cost an amount Laura would have to work for a week to pay off. But, this was what she wanted, and what she wanted, she got.

The auditions were in two weeks, just a half an hour away from home, at a local college theater. The material for auditions was on the website and Laura was thrilled she had most of the material already, in music theory books and music collections she had bought and practiced out of about a hundred times.

Laura raised the trumpet to her lips again and blew, the note perfectly in tune, the pitch so beautiful Laura could have cried. She practiced the songs from the required book and found that one or two of them were even her favorites, pieces she had played over and over again for the sheer enjoyment of hearing the notes come out of the trumpet, dancing in her ears.

She turned back the computer and printed out the audition form, a grin on her face.

It didn't matter that she was a girl. She was almost seventeen and able to devise ways to hide her body from the others. Her friends had always teased her about the flatness of her chest, so that was one major problem solved already. If she didn't win her audition, there was nothing to worry about except disappointment. If she won her audition, the Knights would never find out that one of their best performers was actually a woman.

Laura spent the rest of the night carefully filling out the audition form, putting her name down as Lee Harring, instead of her actual name, Laura Harring. She would have to get used to being called Lee. She wrote down her prior marching experience and all other awards and contests she had won or been a part of. In two weeks, she would be ready to blow them all away, to make them take her, no matter if she was a guy or not. She was going to march with the best, to perform with the best. The Knights had it all.

She was not going to let her dream die.

Little did she know that, on a bus coming back from the final performance of the season, third place trophy in the seat next to him, Tyler Deleyney was going to do anything to get a girl to join the corp, no matter what.

He was not going to let his band die.

_

* * *

Ohh, so they both need one another, but they don't know it right now! Hehe! Sorry about the short chapter; I'm just trying to set something up, here! The next few chapters will move along faster and Laura will get to meet everyone and find out if her dream comes true! (Not to spoil anything, but it does; if it didn't, I wouldn't have much of a story, would I? HA!)_

_Thanks for reading and please leave me a review!_


	4. The Audition

_I was just listening to a good song and thought of this story as I heard it, so I wanted to work on a chapter or two! Thanks for all the reviews so far and I'm looking forward to hearing from you!_

_To my loyal readers, the last name of the music director might sound familiar! Hehe, check out "The Heart Of A Fool" if you don't get it and want to understand! Don't worry, it isn't an inside joke, though, essential to the story; it's just recycling names..._

**

* * *

The Audition**

The place was packed. People were crunched in the annex of the theater, cases lining the walls, various instruments being carted around by their masters, the hopeful musicians sitting by their case on the dusty floor or in one of the few available chairs the annex held. Inside the auditorium, Tyler Deleyney and Peter Hamon sat in the front row, clipboards in hand, filing box at Peter's feet, cellphone in Tyler's hand. They were waiting for Paul to call them and announce the end of color guard tryouts, which had been held earlier that morning. Judging by the amount of people who had arrived earlier for a shot to be a part of the Knights color guard, auditions should be rapping up at the moment.

"Where is he?" Tyler muttered, looking at the cellphone expectantly.

"What do you plan to do? Make it ring just by looking at it?" asked Peter sarcastically. The marching director had always had a caustic sense of humor. "Seriously, put it down and turn it off. We need to start auditions for the brass, at least, before they all tear up the annex and we're faced with even more problems. Did you talk to the foundation on the money issue yet?"

"I told them we were holding auditions and that we were looking for a girl, yes, but I still need to break the news to them that no girls showed up. And why should they?" snorted Tyler, taking Peter's advice and turning the phone off. "I couldn't very well put up fliers or anything. I just don't know where to ask if there was ever a girl who would dare try out for an all male drum corps."

"In two weeks, you couldn't find out where to ask for a girl who at least can play a few notes and figure out her right from her left? Tyler, I told you I would take care of it if you couldn't!"

"Peter! I don't need this right now, okay? Remember that Elizabeth from a few years ago, who came and tried to audition?"

"Yeah, she arrived with her hair down and mascara on. We laughed so hard..."

"Well, we need another person like her. Only, this time we won't laugh, we'll accept her. Where is that girl from a few years ago, anyway?"

"Once she found out we were an all male drum corps, she left the room crying and we tossed out her audition papers. There is no way to trace her back," said Peter, yawning. "Look, are we going to call them in, or what? Let's get auditions started!"

"Knowing our luck, we're going to have to call the foundation back and tell them we can't accept the money," Tyler muttered, signaling to the college student who ran the doors for them to let the first musician in.

* * *

Laura sighed. She was so nervous she could almost feel her hands trembling. What was she thinking? There was no way she could disguise herself properly. While getting dressed that morning, she had thrown on her baggiest pair of pants and an old shirt that hid almost all of her figure in it's folds. She had worn a sports bra that made it appear as if she had no curves whatsoever and her tennis shoes were so old and beat up it almost disgusted her how ugly they looked.

She had left the makeup alone that morning, nearly forgetting and putting on foundation, angrily scrubbing what she had put on off with a face cloth. Her eyes were not those of a boy, Laura lamented, their greenish-grey color too feminine. Her eyelashes were too long and her eyebrows were too thin. She had braided her long brown hair into a tight braid and pinned it up under an old hat her father had left in the upstairs closet. Hopefully no one would notice that her hair was actually bunched up under the hat: she would hate to have to cut it. She loved her long hair, but was even willing to cut it short for the corp if she was accepted. She had contemplated doing that the night before the audition, but as Laura held the scissors in her hand, she couldn't do it. Let the audition be lost or won before she did anything with her hair.

"Hey, nice shoes!" commented the boy behind her, also holding a trumpet. "Where did you get them?"

"Oh, um, my older brother gave them to me, so I don't know where he got them," Laura lied. She didn't have anything remotely close to an other brother, but he didn't have to know that. She was also horrified by his sense of style. Nice shoes? These were the ugliest pair of shoes she ever wore in her life. But Laura just smiled and turned around.

"Hey, what's your name? Mine's Jon."

Jon the trumpet player shook Laura's hand, admiring her trumpet.

"Mine's Lau-Lee. Lee. Nice to meet you, Jon."

"You're pretty formal; strict family?"

Luckily Laura didn't have to answer that question because the boy in front of her disappeared into the darkness of the auditorium, the door closing with Laura next in line.

"Heh, we're both nervous, then?" asked Jon. "What sort of trumpet is that?"

"Oh, just an old one..."

"You don't even know your brand?"

"It's a Bach, if that makes you happier," Laura snapped.

"Sorry, jeez. Just trying to make conversation. Didn't know you were one of those 'Don't talk to me' types."

Laura turned to face Jon, biting her lip.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I'm just really nervous. I'm sorry. I hope you're not mad."

"Don't worry about it," said Jon, smiling. Apparently he wasn't one to let things bother him. Laura listened to him talk, hardly hearing a word as she held her material in her hand with her trumpet in the other.

"This is my second time auditioning," Jon said happily. "Last year, I almost made it, but there was someone after me who was better, apparently, because I found out I was kicked off the list only by one slot. That guy was Matt and I found out he was the head of the trumpet section for last season. So, I know that at least I was beat by the best."

Laura found herself liking Jon's attitude and smiled at him, hoping she didn't look too girlish. Jon didn't seem to notice her looking at him; he was looking around the annex and at the line behind them. There were enough trumpet players to make a person nervous, that was for sure, Laura thought, looking at the line that stopped just beyond the corner of the annex.

"Hey, you won't need those," the college student said, waiting for the cue on his headset to let the next musician in. "They have the material inside on a stand for you."

"Oh, thanks. Where should I put these, then?"

"Get out of line and put them in your case," snapped the student.

"But, if I get out of line, I'll have to go the back," said Laura, disgusted with the doorman who was hardly older than herself.

"I'll hold them for you, Lee," Jon said, holding out his hand. Laura gave him her music just as the door opened to let out the trumpet player before her.

"Thanks, Jon," Laura said as she walked into the auditorium, pleased she had made a friend.

"Good luck!"

"Thanks! I'm going to need it!"

* * *

"Oh, I hope there are not many left," Peter muttered, wiping his face with his hands.

"What's the status on auditioning trumpet players?" Tyler talked into his headset, the scratchy answer from the doorman saying just what Peter feared.

"Let's just get this over with."

"Peter, you should have more patience! We still have about ten spots to fill. After that, then it's onto percussionists and then the-"

"Oh, great, more noise after trumpet players? At least we get the percussion to break up the monotony of brass players."

"Don't sound so excited. Peter, if you didn't like drum corps, then why-"

"'Cause I march, Tyler," the marching director said, exasperated. "I don't care about the music, I care about the drill, I care about the precision. Right now, this is boring me. When I get them on the field, then I'll start to care. But, we're accepting people who might not have marched a day in their life, causing more work for me."

"Hamon, it says right on their audition form whether or not they have marched."

"Anyone can lie," Peter said, catching a glimpse of a student walking down the steps and onto the stage in front of them. Tyler shifted nervously. Why did Peter always have to give him the shivers? Tyler made a note to give Peter a piece of his mind later.

"State your name and instrument, please," said Peter monotonously.

"Lee Harring on trumpet," Laura said nervously, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

"Give him the audition sheet," Peter ordered, pointing to Tyler on his right, Tyler giving Peter a nasty look before smiling at Laura.

"Don't mind our marching director; he's just a little short on caffeine right now," Tyler said, taking the form from Laura. "I'm Mr. Deleyney, the music director, and this grouch is Mr. Hamon, the drill instructor. If you would please play the material on the stand in front of you, we will review your form and give you our decision."

Laura arranged the music on the stand and tried to ignore the eyes of the marching instructor, scrutinizing her in the stage lights, his gaze unnerving to Laura. She blocked him out and nodded to Mr. Deleyney that she was ready.

_

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Ohh, a cliffhanger! Hahah! Don't worry, I'll update this one soon! I like it a lot and I have a few things planned! Thanks for reading and please tell me what you think! Thanks!_


	5. Results

_I was going to update another story when I initially started this page, but I really like this story, and I want more readers! So I thought I would get this one a little interesting! Here we go! (I'm listening to West Side Story music and that reminded me of someone, who reminded me of marching band; I guess if you wanted to know how I decided to update.. heh. Beware, I babble!) Anyway, please tell me what you think in the form of a review!_

**

* * *

Results**

As 'Lee' performed, Tyler reviewed the form. Apparently, he had about five years previous marching experience, including one year as a drum major, all other years as a section leader. His marching resume was nearly perfect, Tyler thought. That should make Peter happy... Lee was seventeen, just barely, his birthday being several weeks ago. Weight: 138. He sure didn't look like he weighed 138, Tyler thought, looking closely at the musician on stage. Height: 5 feet, 7 inches. The performer seemed just an inch or two under the written height, but that shouldn't matter, Tyler observed.

The music that came out of that horn was beautiful, filling the auditorium with a sound rich and full, just like he needed the sound to be like on the field. So far, Lee was doing very well. Tyler felt the form leave his hands as Peter snatched it from him, glancing from the paper to the musician rapidly. Tyler looked at the marching instructor curiously. Peter never acted like this; usually, all he did was yawn. Finally, Peter handed the sheet back to Tyler and, without ever taking his eyes off the performer, whispered to Tyler.

"Lee doesn't look like a guy, did you notice?"

"What? Of course it's a guy! No girls would be here! You just want to get my hopes up for that money and-"

"No, look carefully. Lee isn't a guy. Look at him!"

"Leave it to you to spot a girl from a mile away," Tyler muttered, shaking his head. "You're crazy, Hamon. It's a guy and, so far, he's a Knight."

The trumpet player finished and looked expectantly at the two adults in the front row. The one who had introduced himself as Tyler was thin and had dark blond hair; he was a little older, almost in his mid thirties, and he had the classic band instructor look about him. The guy next to him, the one that had been pouring over Laura's form and looking at her with those black eyes was the marching instructor. His hair was as black as his eyes and his skin was tanned from being in the summer sun. He had sunglasses resting on top of his head and was buff, muscles showing under his shirt. Laura bit her lip as he continued to stare at her, never blinking.

"Well, that audition was beautiful and I think that we-"

"Take off your hat."

Tyler stopped talking and Laura panicked. After interrupting Tyler, Peter shushed him, his hand lowered as if he was trying to hear something far away that had caught his interest, leaning forward in his chair.

"My hat, sir?"

"Yes, your hat!" snapped Peter. "How about your shirt? Would you prefer-"

"Mr. Hamon, will you settle down?" said Tyler, shocked. "Honestly, treat Lee with a bit more respect!"

"Whatever you say, Mr. Deleyney," answered Peter, leaning back and crossing his arms, chin set haughtily in the air. "After_ she_ takes off her hat."

"I don't see why this is needed, but if you would please humor our marching instructor by taking your hat off, we could move onto the results."

Laura could have cried as she reached up and took off the ratty baseball cap, feeling her braid she had carefully hid under the hat fall across her shoulder. She dropped the cap on the stage and bowed her head. She heard nothing for several seconds and then felt the stage vibrate slightly as someone walked up the steps and to her, brushing her hair back from her shoulder, fingers grabbing her chin, forcing her to look up.

"I don't know, Tyler," Peter said, looking into Laura's eyes, his own eyes cold. "This doesn't look like a girl to you?"

Laura, who always hated to be touched, pulled away, glaring slightly at the marching instructor. So far, she didn't like him. Peter, raising an eyebrow at her before leaving the stage and taking his seat next to Tyler, shook his head.

"I wouldn't say yes if we didn't need-"

"Mr. Hamon, will you let me talk for a moment and stop scaring our musician?"

Peter shrugged, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes, even though the auditorium wasn't bright at all. Tyler stood up and walked onto the stage, a slight smile on his face.

"What is your real name?"

"Laura," she answered, furrowing her eyebrows. She wasn't sure what this one would do, but he seemed nicer than the marching instructor.

"Well, Laura, why would you decide to sneak into auditions to join an all male drum corp? Doesn't that just sound like a bad idea? There are other corps out there, nearly all of them accepting women. Why this one? Why go through all of this?"

Tyler looked expectantly at Laura, who sighed.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't want to cause trouble; I'll just be going if-"

"Just answer the damn question," Peter muttered, Tyler glaring at him.

"Like our marching instructor so kindly put it, don't leave. Just answer my questions."

"I decided to audition for this corp because I wanted to be part of the best. This is the best and I think I would make a good addition... sir."

"So, you didn't hear of our third place loss?"

"Loss, sir? You still won third out of all the other corps. That isn't a loss."

"In The Knights, it is," snapped Peter, leaning forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "Third place isn't good enough. As you said, we are the best. The best doesn't win third, kid."

"She's not a kid," corrected Tyler, still staring at Laura. "Come sit with me, here, so we can talk and Mr. Hamon will still be able to interrupt us."

Tyler sat on the edge of the stage, letting his feet dangle. Laura followed, placing her trumpet in her lap, her cap by her side.

"Please hear me out before you say anything," Tyler began, directing the comment at both the musician and the marching director. "After our third place win-"

"You mean loss," muttered Peter, receiving no attention for his remark.

"-we had to face the fact that we were in debt that the first place cash award could have covered. We got a little haughty over this past season and spent more than we could, assuming the first place award was us and the money could cover the expenses. Well, it didn't quite work out that way. A foundation got in touch with me and offered me enough money to pay the debt and start us off on the new season for next year, but with a catch. We had to have at least one woman in the band. This has always been an all male drum corp and I almost told them no after I found out that there was no way to change the arrangements of the deal. I told them we only accepted guys, but they won't budge. One woman. So, I have two choices: one, I could say no and lose The Knights to debt, or two, I could hope for a female to sneak in or find one myself who was interested."

"So, because I'm a girl is the only reason I'm being accepted?" Laura asked, slightly disappointed.

"No one said anything about acceptance, princess," said Peter sarcastically, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms again.

"I'm leaving it up to you on whether or not you still want to be a part of this corp after hearing this, Laura," Mr. Deleyney said softly. "Knowing this, do you still want to be a part of this corps?"

Laura thought for a moment before giving him her answer.

"Yes, sir, I do. I'll do anything I have to so I can be a part of the best-"

"A simple yes will do."

"Mr. Hamon, don't make her second guess her decision based on your behavior."

The auditorium was silent for a few moments before a scratchy voice came over the headset Mr. Deleyney was wearing.

"Are you ready for the next musician, Mr. Deleyney?"

"Wait a sec until this one comes out, okay?" answered the music instructor, looking to Peter, who nodded his head.

"Well, I'll go and wait for the spots to be posted," Laura said, hopping off the stage and tucking her braid back under her cap. "It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Deleyney."

"And?" asked Peter from the front row, never looking at Laura as Laura said goodbye to him as well.

"Laura?" called Mr. Deleyney just as Laura was going to leave the room. "Don't mention this to anyone else. If we accept you, we will have a private meeting to discuss the finer points of this arrangement. The rest of the boys are not to know!"

Laura nodded and left the auditorium, taking her material from Jon as he entered, a smile on his face.

"Good luck," she whispered in his ear as he passed by.

"Thanks," Jon said, practically running down the steps to get to the stage.

"What do you mean 'if' 'Lee' is accepted?" Peter asked Tyler sarcastically. "Of course we are going to accept 'him.' 'He' is going to save the corp."

"If you would keep your mouth shut, we'll carry on with auditions," Tyler answered, sitting back down in his seat before addressing the new musician.

"Now, if I could see your form, we can begin..."

_

* * *

Wow, a little bit on the long side, but I wanted to fit everything in right in this chapter instead of stretching it all out. Thanks for reading and please leave me a review! Thanks!_


	6. Waiting

_Sorry about the lack of updates! I just have so many stories at the moment that all need work and a lot of readers! I'm not going to let life get in the way! _

_The little part when Laura is reminiscing is part of an actual event. If it sounds a little bit like the Sophomore Year of For The Love Of Music (one my other marching band works) then you know where I got it. Don't worry, it's just a hint of that story, but I couldn't help it but put something like that in there. This story is going to be a bit sad sometimes and then really funny other times. I just want motivation for the character!_

_I couldn't really think up a chapter title for this one until the very end... hum. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and leave me a review on how you think it is! Thanks!_

**

* * *

Waiting**

Laura waited in her car, the silence overwhelming. She had so much to think about before they posted the results of the auditions. The annex had been so crowded Laura had to escape to the parking lot, afraid of anyone knocking off her hat or finding out some other way that she was a girl. She still had another hour until they would post the spots for the trumpet section. An hour was a long time if one was bored, too short of a time to make a decision if one had to come up with an answer.

The words the music director had said stuck in her head about it being her choice. She didn't see why they wouldn't at least put her in a spot if the corps really was going to fall apart without the money they needed, the money she would bring them, but Laura didn't want to get her hopes up. This was illegal by corps standards, pulling a girl into an all male corp for some funding. But, who knows what sort of politics corps work on? If it was anything like regular marching band, there was much more to it than Laura knew about.

When she had been the drum major of the marching band the previous year, the summer before her junior year of high school, Laura had found out who directors were when they were put under pressure. She found out how other majors acted when their band was in trouble. She found out how band students reacted when their music was in jeopardy.

She recalled one of the last awards ceremonies of the season as a drum major, standing on the stage with the color guard commander and fellow drum major with their third place trophy in her own hands. She remembered the look of pride her director had on his face as she dared sneak a glance at him, almost smiling. She remembered the cheering students in the crowd, the marching banner waved high in the air. It was only third place, but it was enough to cause a few tears of happiness. That wonderful moment was then tainted with the news the director had that night after they got off the bus, Laura still dressed in half her uniform, planning on celebrating the win with her friends.

_He had addressed the band in the light of the parking lot lamps, the summer night balmy and nearly perfect. He was quitting. That news upon itself threw the band into chaos, students muttering and some of them crying a little. But the news he had after that was even worse._

_The school, instead of filling the director position, was cutting the marching program._

_Laura was one of those who had comforted the confused and angry students who came to her, unwilling to show how heartbroken she was herself. She remembered hugging one crying Freshman who had loved marching band, her first year becoming her only year, feeling the girl's shoulder's shake through her own marching jacket. The director had walked away into the parking lot and drove off, leaving the band helpers to take care of everything else; the director drove off and left the band in a crying mass in front of the school. She would never forget that night as being her last as a drum major._

"Hey, are you okay?"

Laura was startled by a tap on her window, wiping away the tears she felt on her cheeks. Laura motioned for him to hop in the passenger seat and sit awhile; it was Jon and he had finished with his audition.

"What's going on, man?"

"Nothing, nothing," Laura muttered, delicately dabbing at her eyes before she remembered she had no makeup on and that there was someone watching who thought she was a guy. Laura dragged her hand across her face roughly and sighed.

"Don't let the pressure get to you," Jon said reassuringly, opening the glove box and pulling out what he thought was a packet of more tissues. Laura just about died as they both realized what Jon was holding.

"Um, this was my older sister's car," Laura said quickly, taking it from him and throwing it in the backseat, hoping it fell to the floor. "I haven't really cleaned it out yet."

"No, uh, problem," Jon said, shrugging. "Sorry, I should have asked before digging around. I just assumed you wouldn't mind me grabbing you a tissue. I always keep them in the glove box of my own car, so, you know..."

"Don't bother. Like you said, no problem. How was your audition," asked Laura, hoping the blood had stopped rushing to her face.

"It was great!" Jon said, launching into a spree, talking with his hands. "The acoustics in that theater are just great! I didn't do anything wrong, I think! I should make it this year! What did you think of the marching instructor?"

"He was a jerk."

"Good," sighed Jon, "That way I don't feel guilty about thinking that same thing!"

They both laughed, Laura realizing how high her laugh was. She always had a deep voice, but her laugh was something she still had to fix to make her disguise believable.

"How did you decide you wanted to be a Knight?" Jon asked out of the blue, relaxing in the passenger seat. He looked at Laura suddenly, forgetting his manners.

"Sorry, Lee; if you don't want me to stay, I'll go. If you were having issues and wanted to be alone, I didn't want to bother-"

"Don't worry about it," Laura said, almost asking 'Lee who?' and stopping before she opened her mouth. "If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have invited you in. Do you really want to find out how I wanted to be a Knight?"

Jon nodded his head, smiling, leaning back in his seat.

"Well, I was at a drum festival with a few of my band friends and the director for my birthday and-"

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Me, too! Sorry to interrupt; won't happen again."

"Anyway, I was there and I had heard of the Knights before, but I never really believed how great they were until I saw them and heard them. That was some of the best minutes of my life. That's when I decided to be a Knight. How about you?"

"Like I told you before, I auditioned last year, but missed by one spot. I-"

Jon was interrupted by an announcement over the intercom of the auditorium, the speakers outside carrying the announcement across the parking lot.

"Trumpet audition results for the Knights Drum Corps posted. Will all musicians please report to the annex to receive your scores and then receive further information upon acceptance? I repeat-"

The announcement faded away as Laura and Jon looked at one another mischievously before bolting out of the car, Laura barely remembering to lock the door behind her as she dashed after Jon, who still held his trumpet in his hands.

_

* * *

There we are! Sorry for not posting the results this chapter; first thing next chapter! I promise! I'll update soon, I also promise! Hehe. Thanks so much for reading and remember to let me know what you think! This is going to be a long story, I think! Thanks again!_


	7. Sacrifice

_Here is another chapter! I can't answer any of the questions right now, or I'll give it all away! I realized something: There is another story in this section that has a girl getting into a boy's corps and they are also called the Crusaders. Oops. I apologize and there was no plagiarism intended. I'm probably going to have to change the name and re-submit everything or something, but not at the moment. I'm going to wait until I have a little more time to do so. I was so shocked when I found out about the other story and I felt so bad! I'll fix it, I swear!_

_(Okay, on 7/25/06, this story was fixed so the "Crusaders" were "Knights." I tried the best I could to get every name switched; if I missed one, I apologize. I also was inconsistantly spelling "Corps" "Corp" and so, from now on, correct or not, it will be "Corps." Sorry for the inconvenience...) _

* * *

**Sacrifice**

"Jon," Laura muttered, "Tell me you made it, tell me you made it."

"I'm trying to get up there. How about you wait here and I'll tell you if we both made it, okay?"

"Agreed."

As it was, Laura doubted she could get up from the chair she was sitting in, across the annex and away from the crowd as eager trumpet players crowded around the acceptance list. She was winded from running so fast across the parking lot, and couldn't help but be a little nervous about her audition. Jon disappeared into the crowd, fighting his way through as other players either jumped in happiness and went to get their information sheets or stormed away. Laura felt her heart twinge as a boy was escorted from the annex by a friend, trying to talk through his tears.

"My last year, my last year I could have been accepted," he kept saying. "My last chance, my last- last chance..."

He was heartbroken and Laura didn't know what to feel as the two boys left the annex, walking to the parking lot. His chances of joining a corps was over now, he was too old. He hadn't been able to fulfill his dream of being a Knight, or any other corps member, either. That was it for him.

That would be what would happen to the rest of the Knights, too, if Laura wasn't a part of the group. She had heard every word Mr. Deleyney had said about her being their last chance for funding, that, without her, they would lose the corps. She wondered how many of them would be as openly upset as that boy if she were to turn down the offer before her. If she was accepted, she would have to become a guy, basically. She couldn't be a young woman: if she was going to be a part of this drum corps, she would have to give up more than anyone else.

"You made it!" Jon cried, running up to her. "You made it! You're ranked fifth trumpet!"

Laura forced herself to smile. She was happy, yes, but this was not how she imagined getting in; just because she was a girl, she was accepted.

"What's the problem?" Jon asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Nothing," answered Laura, trying to put some cheer in her voice. "Did you make it?"

She thought for a second that Jon had not, because he let his face drop and his smile go away, tilting his head away from her. But then, with a bright smile and a triumphant punch in the air, announced, "I made it! I'm just one above you, fourth trumpet!"

Laura went to hug him, but decided against it, patting Jon on the back.

"Good going," she said, smiling. At least she was going to be with someone she already knew, someone who was really nice to her so far.

"Clear out," came a gruff voice, "Come on, there are other groups that still need to finish auditions."

Mr. Hamon strode through the groups of trumpet players, telling them to leave. Those who had been accepted would get more information in the mail and those who had not made the cut were encouraged to try again next year, if they still wanted to be a Knight. Laura cringed. She had forgotten about Mr. Hamon, the marching instructor. Life with him was going to be hell.

"Come on," Jon said, "Let's go out for lunch! My treat!"

Laura, deciding to enjoy the moment while she could, took her information sheet off the table on her way out and followed Jon to the parking lot, her smile genuine.

_

* * *

Sorry about this chapter. I just needed it to move a little faster at the moment... I am trying to get somewhere and I have to get there soon to get the story moving. I need to introduce a lot of characters! Thanks so much for reading and I look forward to a review! Thanks again! _


	8. What She Is

_Hello! Sorry I haven't updated in a while... Say, I mentioned in the previous chapter that I had changed the original name "Crusaders" to "Knights." For anyone who had been following the story before this point and is a little confused on why the name changed, it was simple: I realized that there was an actual corps called the Crusaders and this was supposed to be unique! Hehe! If things get confusing, too, like names or places, just let me know and I'll fix some stuff or explain it in the next author note. I always respond to reviews and questions; they help me think... _

_Thanks for reading so far and here we go!_

**

* * *

What She Is**

_Welcome, Knight!_

_We are very happy to have you as a member of the newest generation of this corps! We thank you for taking the time to audition and eagerly await the upcoming season as one of our best! _

_Practices will be from six to ten thirty in the evening, starting the week after Halloween and continuing throughout the winter and spring season. If you encounter any scheduling issues, let your drum majors know so they can alert the directors. If there is a personal matter, let a director know as soon as possible._

_There are several health forms and medical releases that need to be signed by a parent/guardian or filled out by yourself if you are a legal adult. We cannot accept you as a full member without the required physical evaluation. _

_Uniforms will be distributed halfway through the winter practice season and to receive your uniform, you must pay the fee first. The fee is $89 per uniform. If you lose any part of your uniform, or it was destroyed in such a way that it cannot be fixed, you will pay for the replacement part. If it can be fixed, you must pay for the repair fee._

_Your instruments are your own responsibilities. The Knights Drum Corps will not be held liable for any damage done to your instrument. To march, you must have a working instrument. For color guard members, there will be a detailed list of your equipment that must be treated with respect and care; to perform, you must have working equipment. In all performances, you must be wearing all parts of your uniform. No exceptions._

_If there are any other questions, please feel free to contact your directors. We look forward to having you as a Knight and benefit from all the Knights Drum Corps has to offer. This is a true brotherhood, united by music and the love to march._

_Sincerely,_

_Tyler Deleyney: Musical Instructor_

_Peter Hamon: Marching Coach_

_Paul Kley: Flag and Rifle Instructor_

Laura looked at the paper as she lay in her bed, holding the white sheet in her hand. She almost had to laugh when she read the part about being a part of the brotherhood, but then realized how wrong that felt to laugh at those words.

The Knights were really an all male drum corps; how was she going to feel when they were all sitting around, talking about guy stuff? She couldn't escape all the time when those situations came around, but what was she going to say? She had always been a girly-girl at heart, interested in looking nice, posters of movie stars on her wall, fairies decorating the room, jewelry and make up on her dresser. This was going to be so difficult, to mask who she truly was.

Laura realized at that point that she was going to have to be someone else.

She knew the moment she wanted to be a Knight, the evening she saw that marching show, that it was going to be difficult, but now it all became so serious. The directors already knew, and Laura was thankful for that, but what were the guys going to think if they ever found out about her? The musical director, Mr. Deleyney, had said not to speak to any of the guys about it until they talked to her first. When was that talk going to come around? She had already gone out to lunch with Jon, her new musical friend. What was he going to say if he found out?

Lunch had been great; she had been really startled at some of the lingo boys used and tried to fake it as much as possible. Luckily, Jon had not been too observant, busy with his fast food lunch. Laura smiled at herself. She had found herself admiring his hair and eyes while he talked to her, the way his voice sounded as he dove into the conversations they were having. He was just one year older than herself, too, and interested in a few things Laura knew she could get used to over time.

What if her feelings grew? Laura rolled her eyes and put the paper on her nightstand, turning off the lamp. Great; if she were to crush on Jon, Jon didn't know she was a girl. That could ruin everything. Couldn't she just have one guy friend she didn't have to find cute? Laura didn't think he was as handsome as the major had been, though, the night at the drum show. That major, as he glanced at her, had sent her heart fluttering. She couldn't believe how weak she had felt, like a lightening bolt had just hit her, or a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head. She had to find out who that major was.

After all, he had been the final thing that set her mind on becoming a Knight.

* * *

"So, how did auditions go?"

"Good. We have ninety eight members for brass and percussion, leaving you with-"

"I filled twenty five spots for color guard."

"Fine, then. If we need to add more, we'll add more."

Paul smiled to himself as he sat in the restaurant, his soda in hand. Tyler, catching Paul's happiness, grinned, taking a drink of his coffee. Peter shook his head and took a swig of his beer, laughing as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. They were sitting at a booth in their favorite restaurant, the restaurant the three men had gone to after auditions and after practices since they were in drum corps; it was their tradition.

"What's so funny?" asked Paul, raising an eyebrow and looking to Tyler.

"I just can't believe our luck," Peter muttered, looking at the top of the table. "The one year we need a girl, we get one. This is almost too good to be true."

"It is a little odd, but let's not tempt fate to take her away from us," Paul said, shrugging. "What does she play? What's her name? You never told me anything about her, Tyler, besides the fact she is a she."

"Laura plays trumpet; I put her in a G Soprano spot. She's not bad. Needs a little work, but she was good enough to get fifth trumpet out of about twenty."

"And?" asked Paul, waiting for more detail.

"She could be pretty if she wasn't wearing boy clothes," Tyler said, blushing slightly. He never liked to talk about women, even if they were his own students. "I know it's going to be hard to keep the boys of the corps fooled, but we can try as long as possible."

"So, you're just going to let this go on until it blows up in your face, you're saying?"

"I suppose that could be one way to put it, Paul," Mr. Deleyney said, taking another sip of coffee.

"You know, I don't care what she looks like as long as she can march," Peter said, sighing. "If she can't march, she's out."

"It said she marched for about five years and was a drum major," Tyler replied, rolling his eyes. "I think she can handle this."

"All I know is that I'm not picking her up off the field. I'm not touching her. I'm-"

"Peter, are you alright?"

Tyler looked concerned as the marching director kept babbling, stopping only when Paul asked him how he felt. Peter looked out the restaurant window for a few seconds before taking another drink.

"I don't- I'm- I'm not going to yell at a girl, okay?" he asked quietly. "I don't know what I'm going to do if she gets out of line, because I won't know how to discipline her. The majors have to know about her because they control the corps, and maybe even the section leader. I just don't know if she-"

Peter trailed off as the waitress came with their food, laying the baskets of burgers and fries before the three men, each one muttering a thank you.

"Don't worry, Peter," Tyler said as Paul started to dig into the fries. "I don't think we'll have any trouble with her attitude or capability."

"We're just going to have trouble with the result of what she is."

_

* * *

There, what do you think? I hope you like it! I like this chapter so far; it's long enough and I have a bit of everything, I think! Please tell me what you have to say and thanks for reading!_


	9. Poor Memory

_Hello! Sorry I have not updated this story lately..._

**

* * *

Poor Memory**

"Hey, now! Come on, guys!"

Thomas was trying to call the group of musicians to attention, but it was not working. The noise level grew the theater, the same theater that auditions had been held in just a few months ago. Thomas looked at Jake, who wasn't paying any attention to him, but talking with Mr. Deleyney instead, pouring over a score sheet. Thomas wasn't about to ask Mr. Hamon for help; every time Mr. Hamon 'helped,' he usually made things worse.

"Knights!" boomed Tyler, who stood up from where he was sitting in the front row of the audience, facing the rest of the theater, the seats full with chatty boys. "Pay attention to your major! If he talks, you grovel, got it?"

There was silence as Thomas blushed, furious with himself and angry that Mr. Hamon had to get everyone to listen up. Tyler nodded to Thomas after shooting the rest of the corps one last dirty look, sitting down, sticking out his feet, and crossing his arms.

"Okay, guys. This is the start of the new season and we are not going to get a third place trophy this year! We are going to take back first and prove we are truly the best!"

Thomas' rallying speech did little to work the crowd into cheering; it just made them start to talk again. Thomas smacked his forehead with his hand, turning to the musical director and Jake for assistance, stepping out of the spotlight. Mr. Deleyney had told him to address the corps before he would take the floor, but it didn't work out that way.

"Tonight is the first night of practice," Mr. Deleyney said into the microphone that was laying on the stage floor. Thomas smacked his forehead again; a microphone would have helped. "Starting at acceptance, you were Knights. Starting tonight, you are winners. Starting tonight, you are in a brotherhood. There are rules that will be laid out tonight and they will be put in place immediately."

The theater was hushed, Mr. Deleyney looking into the spotlight that came down on the stage, the rest of the theater lights dimmed. Laura was holding her breath, sitting next to Jon, who looked happier than anyone else Laura had ever seen in her life.

"Here are your drum majors: Jake and Thomas. Jake is our Head Major and Thomas is the Assistant Major. They were the majors last year, also. If they talk, you grovel, like Mr. Hamon was so polite to point out earlier."

Mr. Hamon waved a thank you, never looking up, his sarcasm lost on no one.

"The section leaders will be as follows:"

Mr. Deleyney called out several names and sections, a few of the young men smiling wider, a few of them groaning. Laura noticed Jon bit his lip and sighed as a boy named Matt was named the section leader of the trumpets.

"Was that the same Matt as last year?"

"Yup," Jon muttered before leaning forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Laura sat back in her seat and crossed her legs, furrowing her eyebrows. Jon didn't sound very happy about that. Well, he was fourth soprano, one above her, so it wasn't like they would be standing next to the guy. Right?

"The color guard is going to be working separately from the rest of the corps for a little while, for a few weeks, at least. The percussionists are going to have more sectionals than anyone else, often staying behind after regular practice is over. The first few weeks here, we are going to be working on the music more than drill, trying to get everything memorized before the really hard work comes in. I am the musical director, and so if I say it needs work, it gets work. Section leaders answer to the drum majors, drum majors answer to me or Mr. Hamon. Now, Mr. Hamon would like to talk with all of you."

Mr. Hamon took the stage, his muscular body trapped in a tight shirt and jeans. He still wore sandals, although it was going to snow any day now, and sunglasses were tucked over the collar of his shirt. No one dared breathe as the marching director was talking.

"As Mr. Deleyney introduced me, I'm Mr. Hamon, the marching instructor. No one calls me Tyler except these guys," Mr. Hamon gestured to Jake and Thomas, who stood in a shadow on the stage next to the musical director, who was laughing behind his hand. "You call me Tyler once, you do push ups. Call me Tyler twice, you run. Call me Tyler three times, you earn extra drill practice for yourself and the rest of the corps, got it?"

No one moved.

"Good," Mr. Hamon said. "I'm glad everyone gets it. Now, when I tell you all to do something, you listen and you do it. You don't question it unless you have thought everything through and asked your section leaders about it first. I don't answer stupid questions, and neither will Mr. Deleyney or the drum majors. I will not tolerate disrespect to anyone else; if I hear you say something mean, I'm going to be just as mean back, and you don't necessarily need to have said the nasty thing to me or about me, personally. If we can't respect one another, we can't work together, and if we can't work together, how in the hell am I going to get you all to march?"

Laura whispered to Jon, "You know, he doesn't sound like he has a lot of respect for us right now. Why are we-"

"Fifth soprano, do you have a question?"

Laura's eyes got big as she noticed Mr. Hamon had caught her talking with Jon, everyone turning around to look at her.

"No, sir," she called out, trying to deepen her voice while trying to keep the embarrassment out of her face. "No, I'm sorry."

Mr. Hamon narrowed his eyes and nodded.

"Thought you were. Now, if Mr. Deleyeny has nothing else to say, we'll break and meet in the gymnasium. Grab your instruments."

* * *

Laura grabbed her trumpet out of it's case, oiling a valve quickly before slamming the case shut and trying to find Jon. Jon was no where in sight and she was at the back of the group. Seeing Mr. Hamon walking with Mr. Deleyney hardly a few yards away from her, Laura rushed in front of them, not wanting them to see her falling behind. He caught herself walking next to a young man with blond hair and green eyes, his jawline sharp, his bearing straight and proud.

"Hello," Laura stammered, trying to strike up a conversation, flustered. "Is this your first year?"

The boy raised his eyebrows at her. He looked to be about nineteen and Laura gasped when she saw the whistle around his neck, the one thing she should have noticed above all others.

"Sorry, stupid question," she muttered, trying to keep the blood from rushing to her face. She fiddled with the trumpet, pulling out the slides and messing with the mouthpiece.

"It's my fifth year," the boy said, his voice cold, but not mean.

"I didn't realize you were the assistant major," Laura said quietly. "I don't mean to bother you; I shouldn't be talking to you, right?"

Laura was screaming at herself in her own mind to shut up. But, no, she had to keep babbling like a fool... this boy seemed familiar, though.

"It's okay now that we are on break," the boy said, "But, when we're on the floor, no, you shouldn't talk to me."

"I've seen you somewhere," Laura said, trying to jog her memory, hoping that the boy would know.

"I've been a lot of places," the young man said, waiting indifferently for an answer from Laura.

"I know!" she exclaimed. "You were the assistant major last year!"

"Didn't Mr. Deleyney say that about ten minutes ago?" the young man asked, sarcasm hurting Laura.

"I'm sorry, um," Laura struggled to find his name.

"It's Thomas," he said, sighing. "You really were not paying attention in the theater, were you?"

"I was- I just, um... I'm bad with names. Poor memory, you know?"

Laura chuckled half heartedly, her voice dropping with every syllable. She just had to make an idiot of herself.

"You know, I saw you at a performance last season and you looked at me."

"What?"

Laura winced. Why did stupid stuff keep coming out of her mouth? What was wrong with her?

"You, um, glanced at me."

That summer night came back so vividly is was as if it had happened yesterday instead of months ago. She had seen him and felt a fluttering in her heart, his eyes looking at her as if she was the only person in the world...

"I don't remember this. I thought you said you had a poor memory?"

"Yeah, sorry, I must be wrong."

Laura fell back a few steps so she was walking behind him instead of next to him, trying to hide her disappointment. What was she thinking? Suddenly, as she was reviewing everything that had just happened in her mind, Laura remembered one vital fact:

In the stands that balmy night, she had been a girl.

_

* * *

Gah. Poor Laura. Hope you enjoy this! I'll update sooner on this story, I swear! Sorry about my lack of attention to this story... gah again. Anyway, please, please, please leave me a review (I love them very much! I like to hear what people say about my work, even if they don't like it.) and I thank you so much for reading!_


	10. Mistakes

_Here we go with another chappie! (I do not own the Dr. Beat. I don't know who does, it it belongs to them, not me... Whoever invented it knows what helps a band and drives them crazy at the same time...)_

**

* * *

Mistakes**

"Since we have no percussion with us at the moment, we're going to try this with the Dr. Beat," Jake announced, Mr. Deleyney handing him a field speaker. Jake balanced it on top of his stepladder as Thomas clipped a smaller speaker to his belt. Mr. Deleyney set up the tempo and Jake addressed the group again.

The brass players were outside on one of the college campus football fields, the chill air biting through their sweatshirts and jeans. The percussionists had stayed inside the gymnasium after the entire group had been given a run down of their practice that evening. Jake stepped up to the highest point he could get on the ladder without toppling the speaker over and Thomas took his spot at the end of the large row the brass players had made, lining up on a yard line to march to the other end of the field. Mr. Deleyney was jogging down the field, setting up orange cones on the yard lines, and Mr. Hamon was sitting in the bleachers, his headset on to address Jake when needed. Thomas' headset was for Mr. Deleyney to talk to him without interference from Mr. Hamon and Jake. Just the way it had been last year.

"Listen up," Jake called, switching the frequency so, when he talked into his headset, he was heard over the Dr. Beat on the speakers. "We are going to march in a straight line from one end of the field to the other. You are all starting on the ten yard line right now and you are going to march to the fifty yard line. That is your goal. If you do not make it to the fifty yard line in a straight line, we do it again."

Jake switched the frequency back and turned up the speaker for the twangy sound of the Dr. Beat to be heard all the way across the field and beyond. The sound make Laura's head hurt already and it was all she could do to keep from flinching. She had been in marching band for years and had gotten used to the Dr. Beat, but she still didn't like it. Jon, who was standing on her right side, smiled a little.

"I don't like it, either," he muttered, earning a glare from Thomas, who was inspecting the line.

"Fourth Soprano, do you have a question?"

"No, sir," Jon answered, still smiling.

"I think we need to work on keeping our faces straight after we're done with this line practice," Thomas said, walking away as he flipped his headset to speak with Mr. Deleyney. Jon pulled the corners of his mouth down and sighed.

"Oops," he whispered, trying to keep from smiling again. Laura stopped the giggle before it came out.

"I'm going to count you off," Jake announced to the group, all business. "On beat three, you rock back on your heels, putting your right foot behind you. On beat four, you step off on your right foot, causing a swaying effect. Let's try it."

* * *

Nearly three hours later, they were still in a line and they were still trying to get to the fifty yard line. Laura felt cold and she could hardly feel her feet, the numbness tingling her toes. Jon's happy attitude had worn off a long time ago and now her friend was concentrating on keeping in line. Laura bet his arms hurt just as much as her arms from keeping her trumpet held at such a high attention for so long, but she wasn't going to say anything. If she showed she was weaker than anyone else, she knew she would lose the little respect she had, if she wasn't disillusioned into believing she had any respect at all.

Finally, they made it to the fifty yard line in a perfectly straight line, nailing the stop, too. Laura was one of the handful of musicians that dropped their position of attention the moment they got to the line and stopped, bending over and laughing slightly, putting her trumpet on the ground.

"Lee," Jon muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Pick it back up."

"What?" she muttered, confused.

"Attention, Lee, get back!" he hissed, not angry, but anxious.

Laura was still confused until she looked up to see Thomas looming over her, his shadow cast across her by the glare of the stadium lights. He was staring at her with a hardened face, and Laura realized her mistake. Looking up and down the line, everyone else who had broken attention was getting back into their spots, happy it was Lee who was getting the punishment.

"Sorry," she muttered, picking her trumpet up and getting back into attention, biting her lip.

"I don't think biting you lip is part of attention," Thomas said coldly.

Laura let go of her lip and tried not to let the tears come into her eyes. She was so disappointed in herself. Thomas stared at her for a few more moments before looking to Jake and Mr. Deleyney for approval. Jake nodded, as did Mr. Deleyney, and Thomas flipped the frequency on the headset to come over the speakers.

"Because of the lack of disciple coming from the middle soprano trumpet section, we are going to do this again, only all the way down to the last cone. Corps back to position."

The group walked back across the field, several of them shooting Laura nasty glances and mumbling under their breath.

"Hey, it's okay," Jon said, patting her on the back. "Everyone makes a mistake. As long as Mr. Hamon isn't over here, about to attack you, you're going to be fine."

"Hey, Harring," the trumpet section leader said, coming up to Laura's other side. "You better not cost us another one, got it? I don't take to drill very well and I'm not going to let some newbie mess this up, you hear?"

Laura nodded sadly, staring at her own feet as they shuffled back to the yard line they had started on.

"Hey, you have no backbone or what?"

"Matt, leave her alone, okay?"

Laura was so thankful for Jon at that moment, although she felt back that Jon had to take the look of fury Matt gave him as he moved back into his own spot upon reaching the yard line.

"Again, corps," said Jake over the speakers, the Dr. Beat getting louder.

Laura stepped off along with the rest of the group, thinking she had just landed in something akin to Hell.

_

* * *

There we are. Poor Laura just can't get it straight. Well, hopefully things will get better for her! Please tell me what you think and thanks so much for reading!_


	11. Matt And Laura

_Hello! I've really enjoyed working on this story, but I've gotten a review saying something about the length of these chapters. I would like to hear from other readers on what they have to say about their choice length on this story. I like to write shorter chapters, but some people like to read longer chapters. What do you think? Thanks for reading this story so far; I appreciate every bit of what the readers have to say!_

_(And no one knows yet that Laura is actually a girl; I'm sorry if there was a bit of a mix up about her relationship with Jon. He doesn't know Lee isn't Lee, he just wants to have a friend and to protect 'him' from the nasty section leaders. )_

**

* * *

Matt And Laura**

Laura was tempted to take off her cap and wipe the sweat from her forehead, but she knew that wasn't possible. If she were to take off her hat, her hair would fall out of it's hiding place and cause problems. As it was, she was already having problems with the corps leaders. She didn't want any trouble with the regular musicians.

Practice had been called for the night and Laura was wearily putting away her trumpet, closing the case softly and sighing. She was so tired she wasn't sure if she was going to make the drive home. She could call her parents to pick her up, but it was nearly midnight and what would she do with her car? Standing up, she checked her pockets for her car keys. It was so frustrating not being able to carry her purse; if it wasn't in her purse, she had lost it. That's the way it usually went. Putting down her trumpet case, Laura heard a jingle from inside the padded case, the sound of metal against metal. Picking the case up and putting it down again, a little harder this time, Laura sighed. She had put her keys in the case, that was it.

"We need to have a talk, newbie," came a salty voice behind her. She wanted to sigh again, but didn't know if that was a sign of aggression in the male world. Laura stood up and faced Matt, who was holding his own trumpet case in one hand, his car keys in the other.

"What's the problem?" he asked after Laura was silent. "Waiting for your mommy to come and pick you up, newbie?"

"No, I'm just trying to remember where my keys were. And I found them. And now I'm going to drive home."

Laura picked up her case and turned around, heading for the door, but Matt rushed ahead of her and stood in her way, putting down his own case and crossing his arms.

"Listen, you might be new, but there are some things you just gotta get by the first night. One of those things is that you don't break attention! Ever! I bet you've never even marched before, that you just saw the corps perform somewhere and decided you wanted to try that next. You probably lied on your form to the director; so many people do! Deleyney is so thick skulled he would accept anyone!"

Laura was taken aback by the venom in the boy's voice. What was causing him to be so vicious? She felt fury building in her chest because of what he had said about her never marching before. She wanted to step forward and let him have it, to attack him with words like he had done to her, to leave him wimpering and cowering before her, apologies spewing out of his mouth. She had been a drum major and, before the marching band had fallen apart, she was one of the most respected members, looked up to, admired. Now, she was less that dirt to this sniveling jerk. Fear took over her fury as she rememebered his words about her lying on her form. She had lied, yes, but not about her marching experience. She had lied about what she was. That in itself was enough to scare her. The fact he had insulted Mr. Deleyney tipped her off that Matt was not one to respect authority. In her marching band, Laura had often repeated a motto, telling it to anyone who questioned her in the band without showing what they were worth first:

Those who cannot respect authority cannot have authority.

That apparently wasn't true in all cases.

"So, what are you going to do? Stand there all bug eyed and slumped over? Or are you going to stand up for yourself, huh? What are you going to do?"

"He is going to walk away from you and you are going to go home, Matt," said a voice from behind Laura. Laura turned around and saw Mr. Deleyney and Mr. Hamon standing in the hallway, Jake and Thomas behind them. Matt, only seeing Mr. Deleyney, snarled.

"Yeah? Who says?"

"The music director says, Matt. Now get home before I kick you there."

Laura could have laughed at the size of Matt's eyes and the way his jaw dropped as Mr. Hamon stepped forward and set his jaw, narrowing his eyes. The marching director was a source of fear to even the worst bullies, apparently, and for that, Laura was grateful. Matt picked his case back up and glared at Laura.

"We'll talk later, Lee, don't worry."

Laura bit her lip as the angry boy walked out the doors and to his car. She turned to face the four men, feeling just as nervous now as she had before they had saved her from the wrath of the section leader.

"Thanks, I really-"

"Keep your mouth shut," snapped Mr. Hamon, turning away and walking into the auditorum.

Laura was horrified at the fury in Mr. Hamon's voice and looked to Mr. Deleyney with worried eyes, Jake and Thomas following Mr. Hamon into the theater on the marching director's command.

"Don't worry, Laura," Mr. Deleyney said, walking up to her and putting an arm around her shoulders, realizing she was trembling. "Mr. Hamon doesn't mean to be so nasty. He doesn't like to see people in authority positions bullying younger, less experienced members. He also doesn't like having to save the younger students. It's just not in his nature."

"I'm so sorry about today. I really didn't know about-"

"Now you do," Mr. Deleyney said, smiling. "Just keep your head about you, no matter what you do, and you'll fit in fine. Usually, the first two weeks of practice are really tough and then everyone starts to relax and have some fun. It doesn't get this bad again until spring training, when we hit the road. But, that is a few months from now and we don't need to talk about it at the moment."

Laura nodded. Mr. Deleyney said everything she had hoped would comfort her. She even dared a small smile as Mr. Deleyney walked away and opened the theater door.

"I'm just going to have a small meeting for directors before I leave, Laura. You should probably go home. Get some rest; we meet back here at five tomorrow night."

Laura nodded and thanked him, picking up her trumpet and walking out into the cold fall air. Only when she got to her car did she take off her cap, letting her braid fall down her back. Placing her trumpet in the trunk to keep it from getting stolen, after taking out her keys, and throwing the cap in the back seat, Laura started her car and sat there for a few moments, letting the roar of the engine wash over her, filling her ears with noise. This had only been the first night of practice, practice that was going to continue all winter, into the spring, into the summer, and then back into fall. What had she gotten herself into?

The boy she had feelings for had reprimanded her for lack of discipline, her section leader hated her guts, the marching director was a jerk, and all they had done that night was march in a straight line back and forth across the field. At least she had Jon and Mr. Deleyney to look out for her. Maybe there was a reason why girls wouldn't be allowed to join the Knights under normal circumstances. What if Mr. Deleyney was just putting on an act of liking her so she wouldn't quit? What if Jon was in on the secret and wasn't letting on?

Laura pounded on the steering wheel. Damn it, she thought, she was getting cold feet. She wasn't going to get paranoid. She wasn't going to quit. She was going to march and realize how lucky she was to be a part of the Knights. Putting the car in drive, Laura pulled out of the parking lot, not realizing that Matt, who was sitting in his car, had been watching her.

_

* * *

Oh, poor Laura! Hehe. Well, things will look up. Matt won't get her (yet) and everything will look up (soon). I just love the marching drama. I don't like being a part of it (if I was Laura, this would be driving me crazy) but I like writing about it! Please tell me what you think and thank you so much for reading!_


	12. Everything We Do, We Do Together

_I wasn't going to work on this story any more today, but I really like it. When I get going, I can really work on an idea. I have other stories, yeah, but so far, this one is my favorite to work on (at least for the moment)... I just have so many ideas for this story and I don't want to stop! Knowing me, I'll work on this story for a few more days and then not do anything for a week on it, but I just love this! Hehe... Anyway, here we go!_

_(The title is actually based off of something a wise director once taught me and that has never failed me with my band! It's just a great motto!)_

**

* * *

Everything We Do, We Do Together**

Laura held her chin proudly in the air, at perfect attention, while Thomas went down the line, inspecting them before practice would begin for the evening. The percussion was warming up across the field and the corps could hear the Dr. Beat clash with the beat coming from their percussionists. Jake stood on his ladder, talking with Mr. Deleyney, who kept nodding. Mr. Hamon sat where he usually did during practice, arms behind his head, legs stretched out, watching the corps work. How he could still dress in a short sleeved shirt and sandals was beyond Laura; at the moment, she was asking herself why she had not worn another pair of socks or another shirt under her sweatshirt. She was freezing and practice had not even started.

"This past week, you've all been working very hard," Thomas said loudly, his militaristic voice carrying across the field. "I'm amazed at how far we've come. But we are not far enough. I'm surprised at the progress we have made, but we need to go further. We can march in a straight line to a single beat, but that is hardly anything compared to the routine we start learning tonight. I hope you all can hang on for the ride."

Laura felt her heart swell with pride and set her jaw. She was not going to let anyone see how excited she was to start learning the routine, to start playing the music. Even though she knew that the drills they had been working on the past week were for their own good, they were awfully boring and Laura had been curious to when they were going to start learning their routine.

"About time," muttered their section leader. Laura felt her heart drop. She hoped Thomas had not heard Matt and his muttering, but she knew he had. Laura let her eyes wander and saw Thomas stop his pacing, head held high in the air, back ramrod straight. The assistant major turned on his heel and marched toward the end of the line where Matt stood, a smirk on his face.

"What did you say, First Soprano?"

"You heard me, big wig."

"I'm going to ask you to repeat what you said before to my face."

"No way."

"Keep your mouth shut, then," Thomas said coldly, making eye contact with Matt until the section leader looked away. Thomas looked angry as he walked back down the line and Laura took a deep breath as he walked past her, the wind he left in his wake thrilling her. He was something otherworldly, something so much better than the rest of them. It was hard to believe that he was only the assistant major.

Laura had realized over the past week why everyone had the position they did, except Matt, of course. Jake was funny, light hearted, prone to smiling when he was giving orders. The corps loved him because he made them feel like each one of them was his best friend. Jake knew how to lead a corps willingly, instead of dragging them along. Thomas was chill by nature. He had an icy aura and Laura found it hard to believe that he had actually talked to her that first day; she had thought that he had been cold then and she could have laughed at herself now. As the lead major, he would never get the corps to do what he wanted them to do without Mr. Deleyney and Mr. Hamon right by his side. As the assistant major, he was perfect. He knew what the group was supposed to be doing and was going to get them to do it, come hell or high water. His knowledge was superior to anything Laura had ever learned as a drum major and Thomas always knew what the corps needed to work on.

Knowing he was so far out of reach, why did she still get a flutter in her stomach every time he passed by?

"Now, let's see if you can march to the end of the field and back, turning at the same time, while ignoring the noise around you. You are to ignore everything but the Dr. Beat. Internalize the beat when you can't hear it anymore and keep going no matter what."

After giving them a run down on what beat they were to stop, turn, and resume marching, Thomas flipped the frequency and talked to Jake, the head major signaling the percussion to start playing a cadence. Laura was worried when the cadence clashed horribly with the Dr. Beat and nearly threw her off step while she was still in mark time. Whoever thought this experiment up was good. Cruel, but good. It was probably Mr. Hamon who invented it, judging by the smirk on his face as Jake and Thomas stopped and started the group several times as the corps couldn't even start on the right foot.

* * *

Eventually, the group made it down and back marching in time with the Dr. Beat, Mr. Deleyney clapping wildly as Jake blew the command for a halt. Laura wanted to sit down and let her aching muscles rest, but never even blinked, staying at a near perfect attention. Thomas, as he walked by, inspecting the group, raised an eyebrow. The ghost of a smile swept over his face as he looked at Laura and Laura realized she wasn't breathing. As he walked by and the smile disappeared, she smiled just a little, unable to contain it.

"Pull your shoulders back," Thomas told Matt, the section leader obeying hesitantly with a grimace on his face.

"Good job, Knights!" exclaimed Mr. Deleyney, walking up to the line with a smile. "That will end the physical part of the practice. We're going to head to the auditorium and work on the drill sheets. Okay?"

Some members muttered an answer and Thomas and Mr. Deleyney shook their head at the same time.

"One rule of being a Knight," boomed Thomas, "You do not answer if you can't answer as one voice. Everything we do, we do together! Let's try it again."

"We're going to go inside and work on drill sheets, okay?" said Mr. Deleyney, smiling wider. This was a fun game to him.

Again, only half the corps responded and it was not in unison.

"When a commander talks to you, you either respond 'Yes, sir,' or 'No, sir,'" Thomas said, chin in the air. "Let's try it again. Everything we do, we do how?"

There was a confused silence until...

"Together!" said Laura, trying to deepen her voice.

"Repeat!" ordered Thomas.

"Everything we do, we do together!" answered Laura, gaining confidence with every word as she saw Thomas' face soften and Mr. Deleyney smile even broader.

"Repeat, corps!" Thomas ordered, standing with his legs spread apart, his arms crossed. He looked as if nothing would push him over, so majestic that Laura thought she could just stare at him forever. "Everything we do, we do how?"

"Together!" boomed the corps, voices swirling into one.

"Good!" called Mr. Deleyney, very pleased, clapping his hands again. "Now, we're going to go inside and look over drill sheets, okay?"

"Yes, sir!"

Laura was astonished by the power of their voices when they all spoke together and she looked at Jon out of the corner of her eye. Her friend was at attention, but could hardly keep the smile off his face. Laura looked at Thomas as he bowed his head, his platinum blond hair gleaming in the fading light.

"On the command of fall out, go to the auditorium and take a seat within your section. Fall out!"

Thomas gave the command and Laura was hardly one to complain as she felt her muscles spasm on her. She stretched her legs and followed Jon into the building, never seeing the look of fury on Matt's face as they walked by their section leader.

* * *

"Now, I've given the majors your numbers as well, so they have a list of where you are supposed to be, in addition to the lists Mr. Hamon and myself have," Mr. Deleyney said, addressing the entire theater of musicians as Jake and Thomas passed the bundles of drill sheets to the section leaders, the section leaders distributing them among the group. Jon glared as Matt read off Laura's fake name and number, throwing the drill sheets she needed at her. The group of papers were stapled, luckily, and Laura picked them up from where they lay at her feet, shaking the dirt off and glaring at Matt, also.

"Now that everyone has their sheets, I'm going to turn the floor over to Mr. Hamon," Mr. Deleyney announced, Mr. Hamon strutting on stage and taking switching his headset for his voice to be picked up over the theater speakers. On his cue, the lights were turned off and a large screen came from the ceiling of the stage, Mr. Deleyney turning on the projector.

"Now, for the first set, we're going to have Line One, which is the soprano trumpet group, here in the front, while the percussion is in the back of the field as Line Two. Line Three-"

Laura looked from the screen, where the little dots, triangles, squares, rectangles, and hexagons represented the different sections of the corps, and back to her drill sheets, which practically made a book.

This was going to be a long season.

_

* * *

There we are! I just love working on this story! Hehe... We have Kind Mr. Deleyney, Jerk Mr. Hamon, Best Friend Jon, Archenemy Matt, Captain Jake, and Majestic Thomas, all revolving around Stoic Laura. Poor girl... I hope to hear from you and thank you so much for reading!_


	13. Trying To Solve A Problem

_I don't really know how the corps usually work for field practice, but I'm assuming it sounds a little like marching band practice, only about 5x tougher. Gah. _

_I love it when guys try to figure out how women think. I imagine these situations as being very funny, but kind of serious. I have Tyler's tone of voice in my head when he is trying to get Peter to listen up. I love it! Too bad I can't make a recording of it, like an audio book, and post it; I bet I would get people laughing!_

_Thanks so much to my readers so far and all the really great reviews I've gotten! You guys are just the best readers an author could hope for! Thank you for all the advice and stuff so far; it means a lot! _

**

* * *

Trying To Solve A Problem**

"Now, First Line move to the left and stop after ten counts, keeping in a straight line," Jake ordered, his voice blaring over the speakers, temporarily drowning out the 'tink' of the Dr. Beat. Laura knew her eardrums would never be the same. All she had to keep doing was follow directions and remember that this was only temporary. In a matter of hours, she could go home to her bed and fall into the covers, her pillow-

"Lee, stop daydreaming and get a move on!"

Thomas' voice snapped her out of her thoughts of a warm, fluffy bed and Laura realized she had missed the ten count move, standing in the middle of the field like an idiot with her trumpet in front of her face. Blushing, Laura ran to her spot and snapped back to attention. Thomas shook his head and walked away, signaling to Jake to start them again.

* * *

"She keeps messing up, Tyler," the marching director said bluntly, leaning back in the bleachers with his legs in front of him and his fingers woven behind his head. After receiving no answer, Peter looked over at the music instructor curiously. Catching his glance, Tyler sighed.

"What do you want me to do, Peter?" he asked, his voice unusually strained. "It's been about two weeks since I've talked with her about keeping her head in the game, but it doesn't seem to be working. We could drop her a few spots to the back of the trumpet-"

"You know as well as I do that it wouldn't do anything but move the problem to a different end of the field. As long as we are a week into the program, that's one more week those kids don't have to learn their new formations if we were to move people," snapped Peter. "If it wasn't for the fact we didn't need a girl, she would be out of here."

"You don't really mean that?" Tyler asked, shocked.

"If she was a he, would you have talked to him already about the fact that he doesn't have what it takes to be a Knight? Everyone else is doing so well and then we have her."

"But, she _is_ trying, Peter. You've got to give her that."

"Trying isn't performing, though, when it comes down to it."

Mr. Deleyney sat and watched Thomas march up to Laura once more and reprimand her for the third time that night for falling out of step. Peter snorted and Tyler gave him a look of disgust.

"You know, that's really annoying?"

"When I do this?"

Peter snorted again and Tyler looked over at him with a frown on his face.

"Honestly, are you a marching instructor or do you belong down there with the rest of the boys?"

"You forget," Peter said sarcastically. "There is a girl down there, too."

"You know, if we told Thomas and Jake that Lee was actually Laura, they might go a little easier on her."

"Tyler, that is the last thing we need; we can't go easy on her! If we treat her like a princess instead of a Knight, she is going to get all soft on us. She already can't keep her head in the game. If we treat her any different, it just-"

"You've never had a girlfriend, have you, Peter?" Tyler asked, turning in his bleacher seat to face the marching director.

"I already know how to-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter. When I say girlfriend, I don't mean one night stand. I mean an actual relationship."

Peter shrugged and started to fidget.

"Well, I've had girlfriends, yeah, but I don't get what you're trying to say. Are you asking me if I want Laura as a girlfriend or what? There's an obvious age gap, but, you know, that doesn't-"

"Peter, just listen! I'm giving up on the metaphor!" Tyler exclaimed, gesturing with his hands. "I am trying to say that you can't treat a girl like a guy and get the same results. You expect Laura to just turn into a young man. Well, she's a young woman and works in a different manner."

"Is this turning into a health class lecture?" Peter asked sarcastically. "If so, you can stop. I never liked learning about that stuff."

"No, it's not! Just shut up and listen!" Tyler said, growing angry. "Besides, you lie all the time; who knows if you liked what you learned in health class!"

Peter had to give it to Tyler that he had a point and was quiet as Tyler continued.

"Now, Laura isn't responding well to the yelling and the stress and everything like that. Women don't like to be yelled at. Now, when Thomas is down there, yelling at her for getting out of step, that is just confusing her more. When anyone is confused, they often mess up. The worse she is being treated, the worse she is on the field. Who knows what is going on inside her mind: women have an entirely different thinking process. We need to figure out what makes her better. We need to find a different plan. This just isn't working the way it is now."

"So, we tell our majors and then what?" Peter said, shrugging. "That makes it better just by them knowing?"

"I see you listen very carefully when I talk," Tyler said coldly. "Of course not! But, they're young! They date girls her age, I bet! If they can help us with the problem at hand, then it wouldn't be just us sitting here, trying to figure out how to make Laura better."

"Fine, we'll do that," Peter said, "But where is Paul for things like this? Why isn't he here, suffering along with us about this girl problem?"

"Paul has enough on his hands trying to get a color guard together. He doesn't need to bother with Laura."

"Fine, but I bet he would have a good idea!" Peter said in a sing-song voice, causing Tyler to throw up his hands.

"Fine! After practice tonight, we're getting the majors, Paul, and Laura in the theater with us and we're going to figure this all out. I'll get the guys."

Tyler got up and walked off, being flagged down by Jake, whose headset wasn't working. Peter sighed as he stood and stretched.

"I'll get the girl."

_

* * *

There we are! I hope you like it! Hehe! Thanks so much for reading and please review!_


	14. Telling The Majors

_I didn't know how to start off this chapter or really what to do with it until later on today. I was really bored and decided to run on the treadmill when I got to thinking about Laura and Matt and Jon and the rest. A few plot bunnies must have ran with me, because they came up with a few ideas. Now, I must feed the plot bunnies (lest they revolt and start their own story), and I now give you this next chapter. _

**

* * *

Telling The Majors **

The theater was quiet, the lights dimmed, the red cushioned chairs inviting and soft. Mr. Deleyney felt himself just melt into them and warm up after being out in the chill fall air. If the forecasts were right, there would be snow by the end of next week. That only left them with another week of field work before they either had to rent out an indoor stadium or work in a gym. A stadium was expensive, money that Mr. Deleyney didn't want to spend, and restricting, because 'classified' sports always got first dibs on field time.

"Are you still cold, Tyler?" Jake asked, offering the director his jacket. Tyler was about to reprimand Jake for using his first name, but decided against it. After all, he had told both the drum majors that they could be informal if no one else was around. Jake was in a drum corps sweatshirt and jeans, still wearing his marching shoes, and he stretched out in his own chair much like Mr. Hamon did, even though Jake possessed none of the bitterness the marching director had. That was more suited toward Thomas.

Thomas was sitting on Jake's other side in the row, eyes shut, his head leaning back against the chair. He looked tired, but would never admit it, so Tyler thought twice about asking the assistant major how he felt. The eyes that seemed to shift colors were closed, the pale, sandy hair slightly ruffled.

"Tough practice, Thomas?" Jake asked, playfully punching Thomas' shoulder. Thomas shifted in his seat and shook his head.

"Nothing is ever tough," he replied, and Jake grinned with the music director. Both of them knew that Thomas needed sleep and Tyler wondered if Jake had taken his pills. The guy was always so happy, but the results were bad if he forgot his medication.

"Just get in there," came a voice from the doorway, the open door letting in a stream of light and a crashing noise before the door was slammed shut. Tyler turned around, as did Jake, to see Mr. Hamon and Laura come down the steps to the row, Laura looking very nervous.

"Come here, Lee, take a seat," Tyler said, patting the seat next to him. Laura sat down and bit her lip, wondering what this was all about.

"What's this all about?" Thomas asked without moving a muscle, eyes still shut. "Why do we need a meeting with him?"

"Thomas, you sound like you don't want Lee here," Jake said, frowning at the assistant major. "Give 'em a break."

"Knights don't need breaks," Thomas replied.

"Knights need sleep, though," Jake answered. He turned to Mr. Deleyney. "Tyler, maybe we should just call it a night, okay? Thomas is about to fall asleep and Lee doesn't look so good. What do you say, Peter?"

"I say you get to do push ups," the marching director said, raising his eyebrows.

"You've got to be joking."

"Does this look like I'm joking? Did I ever say that drum majors were exempt from the punishments of calling me by my first name?"

"Um, no, how many do you want?"

"Twenty, right here," Mr. Hamon said, pointing to the theater steps next to the row of chairs they were sitting in. "It's not like I'm soft like the music director here."

"After this, though, Jake," Mr. Deleyney said, grabbing Jake's elbow as he made to stand up and do his punishment, ignoring Peter's smart remark. "We have something we need to talk about first. Thomas, if you're too tired to join in, you should go home and get some rest. We can fill you in-"

"No, I'm fine," Thomas said, sitting up and focusing on Mr. Deleyney. There was no way to prove now that the assistant major was exhausted.

"Good, because there is something very important here that involves Lee and his role in the corps."

"Just tell them, Tyler, for god's sake!"

"Mr. Hamon, I'll get to you in a minute. Just let me talk," Mr. Deleyney snapped, giving Peter a warning glance. Peter stretched out like usual and listened to the music director speak. He could almost feel Laura trembling in fear. He smiled to think that she knew what the music director was going to say.

"Now, Lee is Fifth Soprano Trumpet, correct? But, it seems like he's been having some trouble marching lately. Maybe, Thomas, if you would loosen up, she would do a better job."

"I apologize to you, Mr. Deleyney, if I have-" Thomas began, trying very carefully to ignore Laura's presence, until he realized what Tyler said.

"Wow, I think you mean 'he,' Mr. Deleyney," Jake spoke up, laughing a little. "We wouldn't want to get you all mixed up, man!" He reached over and fake punched Laura's shoulder, Laura flinching. Jake's smile wiped off his face as Mr. Hamon took off the cap Laura had on her head and grabbed her long braid, showing it to the majors.

Jake's jaw dropped and he blinked in rapid succession.

"You're a girl?" he asked Laura, the trumpet player nodding. "But, you can't be! You don't look like a girl. You don't, well, um-"

"Have a chest?" supplied Mr. Hamon, who Laura was beginning to like less and less as the time passed. "Yeah, bummer, I know. We get one girl and she doesn't even have-"

"Shut up, Peter," Mr. Deleyney said, frowning. "Don't be vulgar."

"How can I be anything but?" asked Mr. Hamon, letting go of Laura's braid and leaning back in his seat once more.

"What's your name?" Jake asked, getting over his initial shock and smiling at her.

"Laura," she said nervously, biting her lip.

Jake reached out to shake her hand and Laura accepted it, smiling herself as Jake shook her hand and bumped his knuckles against her knuckles, causing Laura to laugh a little.

"It's not every day that an all guy corps gets a girl!" Jake said, "I'm glad to meet you! This season is just going to be great! When did you find out about us? What made you want to try out? Why do-"

"Mr. Deleyney, how could you do this?"

Thomas' voice rang out in the theater, although he practically whispered it. Everyone turned to look at the drum major, even Mr. Hamon; he was never one to skip out on a meltdown. Thomas' eyes were flashing blue and his jaw was set, everything about him stiff and unyielding.

"Thomas, come on now," Mr. Deleyney said, worried. "I'll explain everything in a little bit."

"No, explain now."

Mr. Hamon nodded his head and dropped the corners of his mouth in approval. Thomas had real backbone, to be telling the music director himself what to do, and he wanted to see if Tyler had a backbone himself.

"Last season, we ran into some debt issues and a foundation offered me money to fix the problems," Mr. Deleyney explained carefully to Thomas, waiting for a reaction. "The catch was that we needed a girl. They were not going to fund us if we didn't get a girl. And here she is."

Thomas stood up and began to walk out of the theater, Mr. Deleyney standing up and trying to go after him, nearly tripping on Jake, who hurried to get out of the way.

"Thomas, it was either this or watch the Knights Drum Corps fall down around us," Tyler called out, causing Thomas to stop and turn around. "This was the only way. Would you rather have one girl in the corps or no corps at all?"

"How could you accept a girl?" Thomas said, his voice nearly cracking with the fury. "How? How could you do this?"

"Did you not hear the man?" asked Mr. Hamon, turning around in his seat to face the drum major. "It was either this or no corps at all! Get your head in gear and figure it out!"

Thomas glared at Mr. Hamon and Mr. Hamon raised his eyebrows mockingly. Laura shrunk down in her seat and tried to make herself as small as possible. Jake stood up and walked to Mr. Deleyney, staring at Thomas.

"Listen, man, it's okay," he said to the assistant major, smiling meekly. "She's not all that bad. It'll get better, you'll see."

"I'm going home," Thomas said, "And I'm going to think a few things over."

"You're not going to quit, are you?" Mr. Deleyney asked, taking a step toward Thomas. Thomas snorted cruelly.

"What, and give her the satisfaction? I'm never going to stop being a Knight, but I can't believe you would do this, Tyler! There must have been some other way. You didn't have to do this!"

"Thomas, wait!"

But Thomas was already out the theater doors and, in the stunned silence that was left in the theater, they could hear the doors outside being slammed open and car tires squealing out of the parking lot. Laura felt tears come to her eyes. What had she just done? She could see the watery shapes of Mr. Deleyney and Jake standing there in the aisle, looking at her, and she could feel Mr. Hamon tweak her braid.

"Listen, princess," he said sarcastically, but not coldly, "I'm only going to say this once. Don't let it get to you. You'll pull it together. Keep going and be strong."

Laura nearly burst into tears as Mr. Deleyney sat down next to her and patted her knee. Mr. Hamon sighed sharply, getting out of his seat.

"You see," he said, "That's why I don't say nice things. Girls cry."

"Don't worry, Laura," Jake said, smiling kindly at her before grabbing his jacket from his seat, getting out his car keys. "Thomas just took it a little hard. He'll get over it and everything will be okay. It was really nice to know who you are."

Laura smiled weakly at Jake and only felt a little better as Mr. Deleyney offered to sit with her a little while longer. She shook her head no, she would go home now, too. As the music director walked with her to the parking lot, she could hear Mr. Hamon call Jake back to him.

"Where do you think you're going? You still owe me push ups."

* * *

As Laura watched Mr. Deleyney pull out of the parking lot, leaving only Mr. Hamon's car and Jake's car left, a whole new wave of tears came over her. 

They were the tears that came from a broken heart.

_

* * *

Ouch, poor Laura! Well, I knew this was going to be a good one! Please tell me what you think and thank you so, so, so much for reading! I'll update soon! _


	15. Punishment

_Here is another chapter! Thank you so all of you who have read and reviewed right now! This is just so amazing! I love this story so much and I'm glad so many other people do, too! I'm going to be writing about Laura and the rest for a long time, I think! (Once again, I don't own the Dr. Beat or anything else that might belong to someone_ _else...)_

**

* * *

Punishment**

"Corps, a-ten-schen!"

"Huh!"

Jake called the group to attention and everyone brought up their instruments with a snap as they answered the command. Normally, Thomas would bring them to attention as Jake would talk with Mr. Deleyney about the practice ahead of them, but Thomas wasn't cooperating. Mr. Hamon had pulled him over to give him a good shaking, but Thomas was still behaving poorly, refusing to listen even to Jake himself, the guy he had been friends with for years.

It was all because of Laura.

* * *

Laura stood in her position, putting on the bravest face she could, unwilling to let any of her emotions show. She refused to let herself look at Thomas, who was being talked to at the moment by the marching director, the assistant major's shoulder being shaken as Mr. Hamon tried to pull Thomas out of the bad mood he was in. It wasn't normal for Mr. Hamon to do this, she thought. From what she knew of him, he was one to just sit back and let the sparks fly, finding it more interesting that way. But, he was making an actual effort to keep Thomas from clashing with the wrong person that night.

Laura had gone home last night and cried, eventually falling asleep with tears still drying on her face. She had made it home in a blur, Laura remembering nothing besides how awful she felt about what had happened at the meeting. She could hardly bring herself to remember how supportive Jake and Mr. Deleyney had been, even Mr. Hamon throwing in a kind word, only remembering how horrified and furious Thomas had looked when he had seen her braid. She was thinking of cutting it all off, getting a haircut that made her hair as short as the hair the other boys had. As it was, she was only one of a handful of musicians who were wearing hats. Maybe, if Thomas couldn't see her braid ever again, he could forget about her easier.

"Now, we're going to run through the first three sets for right now," Jake called out, using Thomas' headset since his had taken a nasty turn for the worse and broke the other night of unknown causes. "We're going to run them without playing and you're allowed to have your sheets with you until break. After break, we play and the sheets are left behind. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" the corps answered gruffly, Jake breaking into a smile. He still loved it when the corps answered him like that. He put on his 'serious' face again and started the Dr. Beat.

He was just going to have to take over until Thomas figured it out for himself.

* * *

"Now, are you going to let her do this to you?" Mr. Hamon snapped, shaking Thomas' shoulder again, Thomas livid in anger as he pulled away.

"No," he answered coldly, glaring at the marching instructor.

"Well, she's doing that right now!" Peter snarled, looking straight into Thomas' eyes. "She's getting to you! And right now, the corps is down there, wondering why the hell their assistant director isn't down there with them. Jake does the background stuff, you take over practice. That was what we decided at the beginning of the season. Now, you're not taking responsibility. Are you going to let this ruin you? Is one girl really all that important?"

Thomas shook his head, at a loss for words. He had gone over how stupid he had felt last night after getting home, remembering Laura's face as he had shrieked about how awful it all was having her in the corps. He had acted like a fool, and he could tell Tyler was mad at him; the music director had not spoken to him at all since last night.

"Listen, a Knight is supposed to be chivalrous. You were not chivalrous. I don't mean you have to kiss ass or anything, I'm just saying that you can't keep this up because people are going to figure out there is something wrong between you two. And they are going to attack her first because they know better than to mess with you!"

Thomas nodded and sighed. Mr. Hamon had a point.

"Now get out there and work with Jake and the group. This isn't about you, this is about the corps."

* * *

"Way to go, Peter," Mr. Deleyney said, leaning forward in the bleachers as the marching director sat down next to him, both of them watching Thomas march across the span from the bleachers to the field, joining Jake.

"Are you being sarcastic or serious?"

"Both."

"Well, I'm done with being the nice guy, Deleyney. I'm sick of it. These issues are just not for me. You have to admire Thomas for sticking to his guns until I broke him down, right?"

"Thomas is acting like an idiot," Tyler said carefully, "And I don't let idiots hold positions of authority."

"I'm an idiot; you're said so yourself. And I'm the marching director."

"In the corps, Peter, not being an actual director, like one of us."

"So, you're going to demote Thomas?"

"No, but he needs to shape up. Laura was sobbing last night and-"

"But she's gotta buck up and take it. I can't coddle her."

"No one said anything about you coddling anyone, Peter," Mr. Deleyney snapped. "I'm just saying that Laura was distressed last night. I should have driven her home or something. I'm just glad she made it here tonight."

"Yeah, I was expecting one or the other to skip tonight. They both know the penalty, though. Laura has a rule book and she should have read it by now. Thomas has been in this corps ever since he was eligible and he had to recite the book by heart as part of his drum major training."

"I know, Peter, I know. Point is?"

"Point is, something is going to happen and it's going to blow up in our faces. You know it as well as I do."

* * *

Laura sighed as they went through the sets again, trying to keep her attention position and ignore the pain at the same time. So far, none of it was working and Laura felt like falling over. At some points, she could hardly see, and she was sweating profusely, but it was going to be worth it in the end. Thomas was going to see how good she was and the directors would see how dedicated she could be. There was no way she was going to come out weaker than anyone else. Especially after last night.

She had been avoiding Jon all practice so far, making an excuse to go and get water, visiting the bathroom, or going to oil the valves on her trumpet every time he wanted to talk. So far, she was either going to be bloated with water, stuck in the bathroom, or end up swimming in a pool of valve oil by the end of the night. He couldn't know about her being a girl, knowing the reaction boys were capable of after the meeting.

"Lee, get your trumpet up!" snapped Thomas, walking up and looking down his nose at her. Laura was shocked that she could let herself doze off like that and quickly brought her trumpet up, biting her lip.

"Don't bite your lip, either," he ordered. "You are supposed to look disciplined, not scared out of your wits."

Laura felt scared, but she could feel a spark of anger ignite in her chest. That spark was growing into a flame every second Thomas looked at her.

"Keep it together, Harding," the assistant major snapped as he started to walk away. "We can't have problems in this corps."

"I don't think I'm being as big of a problem as you are."

Laura could hardly believe she said it. The moment the words left her mouth, she felt fear seize her heart. What had she just done? The entire corps stopped as the Dr. Beat stopped ticking, Jake asking Thomas what the problem was over the speakers, Thomas without his headset.

"Disrespecting authority," Thomas answered. "Example?"

Jake shook his head no as the members of the corps turned and looked at her and the major, never taking a step, but watching the result of the little spat going on between the Fifth Soprano and the Assistant Major.

"No, stand down," Jake said over the speakers. "We have practice and-"

"Go on."

Mr. Hamon's voice came over the speakers, overriding Jake's frequency to cut in. Mr. Deleyney looked at the marching director in shock, finding Peter staring straight at the two figures on the field with a steely look in his eye.

"Do you think that's right? What are you doing?" Mr. Deleyney hissed to Peter, who switched off the frequency and leaned back in his seat.

"Watch, Tyler. Just watch. I know what I'm doing."

Jake nodded to Thomas reluctantly, bowing his head. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see his. Thomas gave him several signals and Jake nodded again, flipping his headset back on and addressing the corps.

"Get in a circle formation in your sections around Fifth Soprano and the Assistant Major. Stand at rest and don't speak. This is what happens to those who do not respect authority, as written in the rule book."

As Head Major, Jake could over rule this decision Thomas made, but didn't dare go against Mr. Hamon if this was something they had set up together. He knew this wasn't right; Laura was a girl and Thomas had baited her into this. She might not have read the rule book yet, most newbies didn't, and there was always one newbie every year that had to pay the consequences first and be an example to the others. But how could it be her?

"Fifth Soprano," Thomas announced, staring Laura down, her eyes becoming wider and wider in fear and anger as he continued talking, "You have disrespected my authority and, as according to Rule #3, you must do forty push ups. Go."

Laura stood there in shock. Forty? She had never done more than twenty five at one time in her whole life! Was that really in the rule book or was Thomas just making it up? If she would have read it, she would have known, and Laura could have kicked herself at that moment. She looked over Thomas' shoulder to Jake, who turned his head away, and then to the two directors in the stands, a plead in her eyes. Mr. Deleyney put his head in his hands and Mr. Hamon stared back, no pity in his gaze. The members of the corps who had seen this before knew what was going to happen. Every year there was a newbie who got out of line and every year that newbie couldn't do the punishment.

Finally, knowing there was no way out of this, Laura blinked back tears and carefully placed her trumpet on the ground, making sure her cap was secured on her head. Jon bent down and picked up her trumpet for her, sparing the humility of having no one to hold it for her, showing she was alone in the group. Taking a deep breath, Laura began her punishment, Thomas counting out loud as she completed each one.

She hurt so badly, every muscle aching, every nerve on edge. She could feel her whole body shake and her wrists felt like they were going to snap with all the weight she had to put on them. She could feel her feet slipping and tried to keep as much traction as possible, the stadium lights shining coldly. Her breath came in gasps, the puffs of breath showing white in the chill night air. The ground was so cold under her fingers she couldn't feel them, and for that she was thankful. Eventually, every push up became tougher and Laura knew she was reaching her physical limit. She could barely see the grass in front of her and, after a few tremulous seconds, Laura felt her elbow crack, causing her to fall on the grass with a thump that knocked the air out of her.

As Laura gasped to catch her breath, she couldn't get up to finish the punishment and, after several attempts to continue, she gave up, digging into the grass with her fingers, the blades sharp against her cheek. She could hear Thomas' footsteps coming toward her and she managed enough strength to look up at him, blinding herself in the glare of the stadium lights, hardly able to see through her tears of pain and humiliation.

"After completing onlythirty fourof the push ups required, Fifth Soprano is ordered to pack up for the rest of practice and leave until tomorrow's practice."

His voice echoed off the bleachers and reverberated in Laura's ears.

"Knight," he muttered coldly, "You are dismissed."

The corps members were ordered back into their last set formation as Laura tried to get up, her muscles shaking. Jon grabbed her arm and helped her up, handing her back her trumpet.

"Fourth Soprano!" snapped Thomas, looking behind him to see Jon helping Laura up. "Back in line!"

Jon patted Laura's arm and gave her a sympathetic look before running back to his spot, leaving Laura with no choice but to stumble her way off the field and back to the music annex.

* * *

As she put her trumpet away, Laura knew she was in no condition to drive home quite yet, everything still numb, and so she leaned against the wall of the annex until her knees gave out on her.

Laura slunk to the floor, keeping herself at least from exploding into bitter tears. She had been dismissed from the corps for the night, disgraced, humiliated, an example to the others on what would happen if you were to break the rules, even a small rule.

And it was Thomas who had done this.

Laura looked up with welling eyes, wrapping her arms around her knees after pulling the cap angrily off her head and putting it on her trumpet case. She had seen Thomas that beautiful summer night, so handsome, so proud. She had fallen in love with him, as much as she hated to admit it. And he hated her. He had never liked her and the fact she was a girl had only spurred him on to attack her. She loved someone who wanted her out of the corps.

Laura decided that night that she would love Thomas no more, especially after what he had done to her, after the pain he had caused her.

She would not let him scare her out of the corps.

_

* * *

There we are! Sorry about the long chapter! There was just so much I had to get in here! Pretty odd chappie, huh? Poor Laura. I don't know what a big deal forty push ups is to someone else, but this author has never made it past fifteen in a row without feeling like Laura after thirty two! Hehe. Thanks so much for reading and don't forget to tell me what you think! Thanks again!_


	16. The Knights Rulebook

_Hello! Here is another chapter! I'm starting to run out of things to talk about at the moment in this story. Hehe. I'm planning on taking a few days off on this story and updating other stories; I'm starting to burn out a little, I think, and I have angry readers from other stories, demanding to know what has happened to other characters, so I'm going to just take a short, short break from Hearts Of Glass for a while. I never start a story I never finish, however, and this will be a full story, so I'm not giving up. I just have to rest for a bit!_

_There has been a bit of confusion, too, on the name of the corps. I originally had it as the Crusaders, until I realized there was actually a corps named the Crusaders, and another story with the name as Crusaders. So, I went back and changed everything to Knights. So, the name of the corps is The Knights Drum and Bugle Corps, but I might not have caught every single "Crusaders" out there. So, I'm sorry to everyone who is finding this confusing. I think I still have my mind on default from the first few chapters, so I really don't mean to still call them the Crusaders. They are the Knights! I also have caught myself calling the marching director Tyler and the music director Peter. (Peter is the marching director and Tyler is the music director. My mind just wants to get them mixed around.) I base some of these characters off of people I know, very loosely. So, I am probably just thinking of the real Tyler I know and am putting him with the character I think is actually most like him. Is this confusing anyone? Sorry for babbling! I'm just going to get on with the story so far!_

**

* * *

The Knights Rulebook**

1.You are a Knight, and you must act like a Knight. This means being on time, being responsible, being chivalrous, and being the best person you can be.

2. There will always be consequences for your actions as a member of the Knights Drum and Bugle Corps. Be prepared to deal with the consequences of your actions. The section leaders, drum majors, or/and instructors have the right to deal out punishments in accordance to the actions or rewards in accordance to the actions taken by a Knight as they seem fit.

3.You are responsible at all times for your own equipment. You break it, you fix it. You lose it, you find it. You ruin it, you pay for a new one. You must always have all necessary equipment with you at all times, for either practice or performance.

4. You must respect authority. If you cannot respect authority, you cannot have authority. If a section leader or drum major or instructor needs something done, do it while being respectful.

5. At any time, a drum major or instructor can switch positions in the corps. Under normal circumstances, a member ranked third in section will take over position of second and second will be come section leader if the section leader is gone. This is the same for any position excluding drum majors. If a major is gone, an instructor and the remaining major will pick the most competent for the position for the duration needed.

6. You are a musician, therefore you will act like a musician and spread music advocacy to the public. Integrate advocacy into everything you do dealing with the public, whether it be before/after performances or at organization-approved clinics.

7. Take care of yourself. If you are ill, alert a section leader, drum major, or instructor and seek proper care. If you need to be absent from practice, you must have a note from a certified physician. If you have any long term injuries previous to the current season, make sure you have all needed braces/bandages before practice. If you receive an injury during the current season, decisions will be made at a meeting that shall include Head Drum Major, Marching Instructor, Music Instructor, and section leader.

8. As a Knight, you will respect all traditions held by the corps and participate to the best of your ability. You will also respect all traditions held by fellow corps members and rival corps. No hazing will be allowed.

9. No assault of any kind is allowed in this corps. Assault will mean immediate suspension and can take your title of "Knight" away.

10. No drinking, smoking, or inhaling of any illegal substance is allowed. Participating in any activity such as this will earn immediate suspension and can take away your title of "Knight" away.

11. When in uniform, in public eye or not, you must take on the aura of being a Knight. If anything is done while in uniform that would earn disrespect from fellow members of the corps, leaders of the corps, or other corps, punishment will be doubled.

12. Drum Majors and instructors have the right to add rules or take rules to and from the rule book after consultation.

13. Have fun. You are a Knight and should be proud of it. Congratulations!

_

* * *

There we are! I wanted to give the reader just a taste of what the Knights have to adhere to and set up some other things for the rule breakers of this story (and, admit it, you want to see someone break the rules!). I promise that there will be more drama coming up with Matt and Jon, heartbreak with Laura and Thomas, plenty of laughter with Mr. Deleyney and Jake, and sarcasm with Mr. Hamon (who is actually a near perfect copy of someone I know, so, for all of you who never want to meet Mr. Hamon, you have an actual chance of coming across him someday!). The color guard is going to be thrown into the mix and Paul is going to come back! We are also going to meet other corps members! I promise a great mix of things when I get back from my little mini vacation!_

_Thanks again and please tell me what you think! Happy Reading, until next time!_


	17. Dinner Conversation

_There we go with my little vacation! It's done and I'm ready to type again! I just had to take a break for a little while! Writing about marching isn't as fun if you can't actually march; I just finished the marching season with my band last week, so I'm a little bummed out (I'm even sadder that I can't find my whistle... it was a nice gold/brass one and I don't know where it went! I'm such an organized person that it worries me someone stole it... hum...) Anyway, here we are with a new chapter!_

**

* * *

Dinner Conversation**

"So, she gave you some trouble?" Paul chuckled, eating the last french fry in his basket and eying Tyler's basket of untouched fries. Tyler, hardly glancing at Paul, pushed the basket to the color guard director before snapping at him.

"I thought you were on a diet!"

"It's not a diet," Paul said, squirting ketchup into the basket and digging in. "Diet is such a harsh word. I like to say 'watching my weight.' Besides, it's the guys who are going to be doing the routine, not me. All I have to do is teach it to them."

"Well, you should be getting the guard together this week with the rest of the corps, right?" Peter asked, leaning back in his booth across from his colleagues in his trademark position, arms across his chest, legs out in front of him.

"Ouch, you kicked me," Paul said, glancing under the table and then looking at Peter. "Was that you or Tyler?"

"It was him," said Tyler, sighing as he dug through his wallet for a tip.

"Yeah, it was me," Peter said, kicking Paul again.

The three directors were at their favorite restaurant again, finishing dinner. Every Saturday night until they were on the road with the corps, they were going to try and meet, they had decided, going out to dinner and discussing corps business.

"What I don't get is why Thomas had to do that," Paul said, "Why would he wage a full out war with this girl?"

"It's not a full out war yet," Peter replied, shrugging his shoulders. "It's only going to be a full out war if Laura retaliates and gives Thomas a run for his money."

"You know she's not going to do that," the marching director piped in, tossing a few dollar bills on the table for the waitress. "She knows the power of authority; she was once a drum major. She isn't going to challenge him unless he breaks her down. If he abuses his power, we have the authority to take him out of his position and put him back on trumpet. Laura knows we're watching this and she is going to hate us."

"The girl isn't going to hate us," Peter snapped, shifting his weight as he spoke. "The princess isn't going to take it out on us for all of what's going to happen. She signed up for it and she was given fair warning. Now, if she ever tries to take her anger out on me-"

Peter smacked his hand on the tabletop, causing such a loud noise that the waitress, frazzled, came back and asked if everything was alright.

"You know very well you can't hit her; you're just full of hot air," Tyler said sarcastically, reassuring the waitress everything was fine and tossing one more dollar bill on the table for good measure. "Besides, you said yourself that you weren't going to ever touch her last time we were here. What happened to that insecure Peter we talked to a few weeks ago? The one who was panicking about a girl?"

"There is no such thing," Peter sniffed.

"Her nickname is 'the princess', huh? That's sweet," Paul pipped in, wiping his hands on a napkin. "I get it: the Knights and the princess. Aw. The Knights are supposed to protect the princess, though. Why is the gallant drum major treating his princess like this? Making her do push ups on the freezing ground?"

"Thomas just had a bad reaction to the surprise that 'Lee' was a 'Laura.' That's all. I would be pretty mad, too, if I found out that a fellow friend was a girl."

"Peter, don't be an idiot."

"Don't call me an idiot, Paul."

"I never said you were an idiot, I said you were acting like one."

"Enough, you two," Tyler broke in, shaking his head. "All I know is that we need to figure out what to do with the rest of the corps and Laura. What are they going to do when they all find out? Are they going to be mad at Thomas for treating a girl like that or are they going to take his side? I know Trumpet Section Leader Matt is having issues-"

"Doesn't Matt always have issues?" Peter asked. "Every single season that kid is Section Leader, he beats up on the other trumpets. The princess and Fourth Soprano seem to be getting along, though. Does he know?"

"I don't think so," Tyler said, rubbing his chin. "She seems to be avoiding him, actually. She was the other night. You know, I almost called and checked up on her after she went home?"

"Tyler, don't call younger girls, you pervert," Paul snickered, leaning on the table with an elbow, facing the music director, who glared at him.

"You shouldn't eat your fries so fast," Tyler responded, "It gave your mouth something to do besides talk."

"You ate them all?" Peter asked, grimacing.

Paul nodded.

"Anyway," Tyler said, shaking his head, "I was just wondering how she was doing. Peter, why did you give Thomas the okay for him to give her that punishment?"

"She needed to learn her lesson."

"Lesson about what? That Thomas is ignoring his duty as a Knight to be chivalrous to women?"

"Would you rather have him let her off and lose the respect of the other members and shirk his responsibility as a leader to fulfill his duty?"

The two directors looked at one another, calculating, until Tyler threw his hands up and stood, stretching.

"I see your point. We just need to monitor everything better and make sure that nothing bad happens to Laura."

"Are you going home?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, I need some sleep; and some time to think. 'Night, guys. I'll pay my half up front. See you both Monday night."

"Goodnight, Tyler," Paul called, waving slightly. "Aren't you going to say goodnight, too, Peter?"

Peter shook his head and sighed.

"Nope, I'm done with his foolish notions of protecting that girl. If she's going to learn anything, it's going to have to be the hard way. If she has it easy, it's only going to make it worse for her in the end."

_

* * *

There you are! Thank you for reading and please review! Thanks again!_


	18. A Brawl And A Discovery

_Okay, I'm just going to address a little issue that came up the other day before I jump into the story. I mean no offense to anyone or anything, especially the person who brought this to my attention because everything is cleared up right now, but I really don't want to hear about how my story sounds like another person's story. I wrote out the rough plot line on paper the night I came back from a drum corps concert along with a small paragraph of each character and how they were to act. _

_I realize there is another drum corps story out there that was published on before this one, but I did not even realize there was another one out there before my fifth chapter or so and that was only because a friend pointed it out to me. If Hearts Of Glass is similar to that story, it's coincidence. I hate plagiarism and I don't deal with it very well. But, I do acknowledge that coincidence does happen. _

_If you have nothing nice to say, I don't want to hear about it. If you hate my story, don't tell me about it, and if you prefer another story to mine, fine. I only accept helpful criticism and "friendly" comments. I really don't want to put "No Flames Accepted" in the story summary, but I am a defensive author. It's one of my faults, I admit, but every story to me is like a gem. If someone tries to smash my gem, I protect it. _

_I'm sorry for going on about it, but I just wanted to address something that came to my attention and hopefully I never have to mention this again; I don't want to open old wounds and this is directed at no one in particular, just to everyone who is reading this story. I thank each and every one of my readers for taking the time to look at this story, and here we go with a new chapter..._

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**A Brawl And A Discovery**

Laura tried to remember the drill in her head, visualizing the drill sheets in her mind's eye. In the next set, the percussion was going to come twenty beats ahead and move in between the soprano trumpet line, which left her with five beats to get out of the way and into her new position.

Suddenly, something heavy and slightly sharp rammed into her lower back, causing Laura to fly forward and hit the ground, her trumpet landing next to her with a sickening clash of metal hitting metal as a slide flew off and smacked the bell. Laura tried to jump up, but tripped over her own feet, causing her further embarrassment.

"Are you alright, Lee?" Jon asked, breaking formation to help pick his friend up. Laura stood with his help and dusted herself off as Jon picked up her trumpet and put it back together.

"Yeah, I just forgot about-"

"Hey, get out of the way!"

Andrew, the lead percussionist, and the person who had rammed into her, glared and yelled, causing Laura to jump.

"Listen, man," Jon said, trying to be polite, "Lee just forgot. I bet he won't forget again, though. You got him pretty hard."

"Hopefully he'll remember to get out of the way next time so we won't have to start over," Thomas said, breaking into the conversation. Jake, seeing Laura had fell, blew the whistle and stopped the Dr. Beat. If anyone was down during practice, everyone had to stop. In an actual performance, if someone fell, everyone would keep going and try to step over that person until someone came and got him off the field.

People groaned as Jake ordered them to get into back into first position so they could run the entire thing again. They had all gotten so far along in the routine that night, almost done with the positions for their first movement. Now, Lee had jumbled things up again, for the second time in two weeks. Some of them hoped the trumpet player would have to do push ups again, some hoped Lee would just get kicked out.

"I will, sir, I'll remember," Laura muttered, treating Thomas with respect. She was still a little sore from those push ups.

"You'll remember what?"

"I'll remember to get out of the way before the snare drum hits me in the back."

Thomas raised his eyebrows.

"Before the snare drum hits me in the back, _sir_," Laura added cautiously.

"Hey, why does he get to wear a hat? We don't get to wear hats!" asked a sousaphone player who was on his way back to the first set.

"Lee needs the hat," Thomas said, starting to walk away until he heart First Soprano's comment.

"Yeah, Lee needs to hide that long braid of his."

"Section Leader, back to position," Thomas snapped, his heart skipping a beat. Did Matt know about Laura's secret?

"Wait a sec," Andrew said, the percussionist pausing in his check for damage of his snare, "Long braid? Don't we all have to have our hair cut? No long hair allowed, not past our neck, remember?"

"You don't need to tell me the rules, Section Leader," Thomas snarled at Andrew.

"Well, then he shouldn't be wearing the hat!"

"First Soprano, stay out of it!"

"Matt's right! Lee shouldn't be treated any different than us!"

"First Percussion, get back in line!"

The assistant major was having a hard time of it, his heart pounding. He had Matt and Andrew fighting with him. He should give them twenty push ups right there for disobeying orders, but that would only make it worse. Signaling to Jake, the assistant major tried to keep his cool.

"What's the problem?" Jake asked, running toward them. "We need to get back to practice before Deleyney and Hamon throw a fit."

"The section leaders are having a problem with getting back in line," Thomas said, hoping he wouldn't have to mention the fact they were catching onto the fact Lee was a bit different than the rest of them.

"Drop and show me ten, section leaders," Jake said, glaring at Matt as Matt glared back, doing the fastest ten push ups Laura had ever seen. Jon stood beside her, watching Andrew do his push ups before standing and facing Jake.

"Permission to speak?" Andrew asked. Jake nodded.

"Why does Lee get to wear a hat and keep his hair long? He isn't any different than the rest of us, despite the fact he can't remember his drill."

"That, Andrew, is none of your business," Jake answered, "And how do you know Lee has long hair?"

Matt crept up behind Laura and snatched the hat off her head, causing her long dark braid of hair to fall down her back. Laura gasped and tried to snatch it back, fear seizing her heart.

"How dare you!" she yelled, trying to take the hat back before Matt tossed it over her head to Andrew, who caught it in amazement.

"You're a freak!" Andrew yelled, looking at the long hair Laura was trying to tuck into the back of her shirt, putting her trumpet on the ground. "You're a long haired freak!"

"No, 'Lee' is actually a girl!" Matt answered, pulling on Laura's hair, causing her to fall backward, twisting around as she tried to loosen Matt's grip.

Jon attacked Andrew as the Head Percussionist joined in on the fray. Jake tried to pull them all apart, but was shoved by a percussionist who, eager to join the fight, accidentally ran into the Drum Major. Thomas tried to shove people back and maintain order, but soon, every percussionist had taken off their drums and went to the aid of their section leader, and every trumpet player was going to either protect Jon or Matt, depending on who's side they were on. Thomas noticed Mr. Deleyney and Mr. Hamon leaving the stands and running onto the field, their breath in white clouds as they huffed from the sudden exertion.

Thomas flipped the frequency on his headset to get a hold of Paul, the color guard instructor, and alert him. There had never been a fight like this before, a full mob of people jumping on one another, defending their section leaders while ignoring their drum majors.

"Paul, you need to get here quick," Thomas said as soon as Paul picked up the headset.

"Why?" came the scratchy answer.

"Just come!" Thomas yelled, furious. "There's a fight and Laura is in it."

"I'll be right there," Paul replied before turning off his headset, Thomas turning his off as well. The assistant drum major stood at the edge of the group, watching the chaos. He tried to pull someone back, but was smacked in the face by a flailing hand. Thomas felt blood pour from his nose and felt more anger than actual pain flood his senses.

"Get outta here!" shouted Peter, the marching instructor finally arriving, throwing people aside right and left. "Break it up! Get off!"

"You you hurt?" Tyler asked Thomas, the assistant major catching his attention.

"No, I'm fine!" Thomas screeched, half sarcastic, half serious. He didn't want attention, he didn't want to show that he was capable of bleeding along with everyone else. Thomas wished everything was fine, but he knew it wasn't.

After a few moments, everyone broke it up, Jake holding back a furious Matt, both of them suffering minor injuries. Andrew was surrounded by his percussionists, his face livid. Jon stood silently with the trumpet players behind him, grimacing. They were the only two groups of the corps to be involved in the fray, the sousaphone and other instruments standing in a circle around the groups. In the center of it all was Laura and the marching director.

Her hair was halfway out of it's braid, tumbling in waves down her back. Her face was pale in fear and anger, a red slash across her upper left cheek where someone's instrument had hit her with a sharp edge. Her arms were scraped up and the collar of her shirt was ripped all the way to her right arm, the shoulder strap of her sports bra exposed. Uselessly, Laura tried to cover it, but the flap of fabric didn't stay.

The entire corps looked at her as Mr. Hamon helped her to her feet, the silence eerie. There was hardly a wind, only the cold night air and stadium lights and the grass beneath their feet.

"Meeting," Mr. Deleyney said softly, his voice full of silent fury. "In the theater. Now. If you don't show up in five minutes, you're out of the corps. Get your instruments and get inside."

The entire corps looked at their music instructor; they had never seen him like this, not even the veterans that would age out this season. Something had just happened that would change the corps forever.

"NOW!"

Mr. Deleyney's order came out as a shriek and the boys gathered their instruments, leaving the field, glancing occasionally at Laura, who was being held by the elbows by the marching director, her state of disarray showing them all what they had done. The occasional glance was directed toward their drum majors, one of them with a bloody nose, the other with an already blackening eye.

No one dared look at Mr. Deleyney or Mr. Hamon. Their fury was too much to bear.

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_There we are! The corps knows and things are going to happen! I expect this meeting to be HUGE! I just love writing stuff like this and I hope to update soon! Thank you very much for reading and please leave me a review. Thanks again._


	19. The Meeting

_Hello there! I was just reading the story last night, searching for mistakes to fix (and for the fun of it, you know!) and I have found a few mistakes that I'll fix. Like, Thomas told Laura that she had broke Rule 3 in the rulebook by disrespecting him, but Rule 3 is actually about uniforms. (blush) That and the marching director said that Jake had to do push ups for calling him by his first name, but he said at the beginning that drum majors were exempt from that rule. So, I have pointed out a few inconsistency's and I'll try and fix them the best I can! Sorry and onward!_

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**The Meeting**

Inside the theater, no one spoke. Every member of the corps was sitting silently in their chairs, either nursing minor wounds or nursing bruised egos. Sections sat together, leaving gaps between themselves and other sections, all angry at one another. The trumpet section was divided in half: the musicians who supported Jon and Laura, and then Matt's followers. It did not look promising for the corps.

The doors slammed open and the directors, drum majors, and Laura walked down the steps, Mr. Deleyney leading with Mr. Hamon dragging Laura behind. Thomas sported a bloody nose and Jake was livid in anger, both majors furious at the corps and angry with themselves for letting it get out of control. Their job was to prevent things like this. They had not done their job. Paul Kley led his color guard into the theater and ordered them to sit quietly in the back row, the group obeying their director. Paul followed Peter and Laura down the steps and to the stage, shaking his head. He had no idea of what was going on or what was going to be done about it; a full out brawl like this had not happened in the history of the corps.

"I hope you're happy with yourselves," Mr. Deleyney said bitterly, addressing the entire group from his spot on the stage. "I hope you are just delighted with what you have done. If bloodying each other up is what you want to do, go to a saloon! This is a drum corps, not a wrestling meet!"

Tyler's voice grew louder with every word he said, finally coming to a screaming pitch on the sentence. Laura couldn't help but flinch; she had never heard anyone this angry. She had teachers who have yelled at her class before, but this was even more terrifying because she was facing a group of beat up boys, this meeting a result of a fight that had all started with her. Mr. Deleyney put his hand to his forehead and packed back and forth on the stage, seconds growing into minutes where everyone started to shift nervously in their seat.

"What started this?" Tyler asked, his voice losing none of it's earlier venom. "Who started this? What was the meaning?"

"Section Leaders Andrew and Matt disobeyed orders to get back in position," Thomas spoke, his voice dull, the bloody nose nearly stopped. "Matt attacked Fifth Soprano and Fourth Soprano came to save-"

"And then everyone joined in," Tyler finished brutally, directing his voice back to the corps in the theater seats. Jon sat in the front row, scrapes on his face, while Andrew sat with his percussionists in one corner of the theater, Matt and his followers in the other corner. Tyler shook his head.

"I haven't been totally honest with you boys," he started, trying to find the right words. "Who remembers the bus accident with Ronald?"

A few members raised their hands, not looking at one another. Laura could tell that was a painful memory to bring back, but did not follow with where Mr. Deleyney was going with his story.

"For those of you who don't know, a few summers ago, Ronald didn't get on the bus after one performance. He ran off with a few friends of his he knew from that town and didn't remember the travel rules; you never leave the corps unless you have express, written permission from myself or another adult director, and no running off if you are not of legal age, period. Ronald ran off and no one knew where he was. All that night, we worried-"

_The summer night was balmy and calm, not even a breeze to ruffle the leaves in the trees. It had been almost eleven o'clock in the evening, the performance that evening winning them the first place trophy and putting them in first place overall for the division. The boys were celebrating on the bus, their uniforms tucked away carefully in the trailer, their hard work done for the night. Some one was passing around a bag of chips on the Trumpet Bus, soda appearing on the Percussion Bus. Every bus was celebrating their victory, three weeks away from finals. Everyone was eager to get to a fast food joint and grab a bite to eat before heading to the next city, including the directors._

_Mr. Deleyney had done role on the Trumpet Bus, Mr. Hamon taking role on the other buses, Mr. Kley taking role on the Guard Bus. They had seemed all ready to go and, eventually, they pulled out of the parking lot, the nearest restaurant about fifteen minutes away. _

_The trumpet section leader at the time had noticed Ronald was missing first._

_After ten minutes of confusion, the Trumpet Bus went back to the parking lot while the other buses and vans and trailers went on ahead, planning on meeting them with a very embarrassed Ronald in tow later on. _

_It didn't happen that way._

_After a half an hour of looking for Ronald, they heard someone had seen him get into a car with some young boys and drive off. That's when Mr. Deleyney called the police. After the details with the police were taken care of, Mr. Deleyney had stayed behind with one of the vans and ordered the Trumpet Bus to go to the restaurant without him, Mr. Hamon in absolute control. The corps was to go on ahead to the next city and Mr. Deleyney would follow in the van, planning on having a long talk with Ronald about this little accident._

_Ronald's parents were alerted first when the police found Ronald in an alley, robbed and shot. Mr. Deleyney raced to the hospital Ronald had been taken to, but, by the time he got there, Ronald had slipped into a coma, a ruptured artery causing a brain hemorrhage. _

_Ronald had lived four days after that before passing on._

"And after we caught his friends, they had said he had planned on walking back to the parking lot, asking them to drop him off a block away from where we were staged so he could just sneak back to the buses before I caught him. One block was all it took for someone to come across Ronald, attack him, and shoot him. It wasn't justified," Mr. Deleyney said, his voice strangely quiet after his yelling stint before. "No crime is ever justified. But, they never caught the person who attacked Ronald. His parents sued us for not keeping a closer eye on their son and the Knights Drum and Bugle Corps had to pay a settlement fee, too much for us to afford, but not nearly what we would have had to pay if the parents had pursued a higher payment for the loss of their son."

"The next two years after that, we struggled to keep above the rising waters of debt, and we won first place championships, lucky that the corps hadn't been dropped by the association or disbanded all together after Ronald's accident. We're lucky we're still around. A foundation offered me money at the end of the last season, enough money to pull us out of our debt and start again. As it is, this would be our last season because no one wants to sponsor us anymore because of what happened. The foundation promised me this money, but their requirements involve having a female member."

Laura bit her lip nervously as all eyes in the theater turned to her, Mr. Hamon's grip on her arms growing tighter, as if to keep her from running away from them and never returning. Mr. Deleyney turned to look at her, his eyes watering.

"And that is why we have you, Laura," he said loud enough for the rest of the corps to hear. "We have you because you are going to save us. You are going to give us the opportunity to keep the corps going strong. You are a gift, a gift to us. You came to us, hoping to earn a spot in this corps and you pulled through to Fifth Soprano Trumpet. But, you've been having problems with this corps ever since you were accepted. You can't march, you disobeyed your Assistant Major, you caused a riot."

Laura hung her head, her eyes stinging with tears. They wouldn't kick her out because they needed her, but, if she was anyone else, she would be gone in an instant, Laura bet. They really didn't want _her_, they just wanted a girl. It didn't have to be her, but any girl at all, at this point in the life of the Knights Drum Corps.

"But no one has been giving you a chance!" Tyler continued, his voice growing louder once more. "Not a single person! No one wants you here!"

"Not true!"

Jon jumped onto the stage and stood next to Laura, a faint smile on his face as he looked at her. Laura felt so guilty for getting him beat up, but Jon didn't seem to feel a thing, addressing the corps.

"I want Laura here. She can do it. She can be a Knight! She'll get better. She just needs support!"

"I want Laura here, too," Jake said, coming to stand beside Jon. Laura's heart beat faster and faster. If she had one of the drum majors supporting her, then there must be more people out there who wanted her here, even if it was just for the fact she would bring the Knights out of debt and guarantee them another season.

"I want her here, too!"

"And me!"

"Laura, you can stay!"

Several members of the corps from the theater stood up, shouting at the top of their lungs. In a matter of moments, half the theater was clapping for her, and Laura felt a little weak. Suddenly, she was happy for Mr. Hamon's grip on her, and Laura choked back tears. She wasn't going to cry and get sappy on them, not now that she actually had a bit of respect.

Matt sat sullenly in his corner, his friends around him, none of them moving to applaud or do anything that might show they were in support of Laura. Andrew, also, sat in the opposite corner, glaring fiercely at one of the percussionists who stood up for Laura and clapped. The percussionist simply looked at Andrew and shrugged his shoulders before continuing his cheering. Jon, after patting Laura on the back, stepped off the stage and resumed his seat, Jake stepping back, too, and the clapping faded away as the corps members sat down and waited for whatever their instructors had to say next, hoping that the meeting would end and they could go home. They had found out the big secret and, whether in favor of Laura or not, all of them were exhausted.

"Now, we still have the punishments to dole out," Mr. Hamon said, letting go of Laura, who felt lighter now that he wasn't holding her up. "I believe that I will wait for the punishments to be carried out until tomorrow's practice, however. I'm giving Section Leaders Andrew and Matt two miles for tomorrow. For the rest of the corps, you'll each do thirty push ups for fighting."

There was not a single groan in the entire group, even Matt and Andrew accepting the fact they were being punished quite fairly.

"Now, get home and get some sleep, Knights. If your parents have any concerns on why you are going home bruised and bloody, they can call me. On the command of fall out, leave in an orderly fashion and I'll see you tomorrow. Fall Out!"

As the members of the corps left, a few of them came down to see Laura and say something nice. One or two even shook her hand or clapped her on the back, Laura completely blinded by the attention. Jon came and asked if she wanted him to walk her to her car after Jake gave her a big hug. Laura accepted his offer, smiling. It was great to finally be accepted, at least by some of the Knights.

After saying thank you to the directors, Laura started to walk out of the theater with Jon, turning around after remembering she had not seen or heard from Thomas. The pale haired drum major was leaning against a stage wall, trying to wipe some of the blood off his face with an already bloody tissue. Laura still thought he was so handsome, but her love for him had lessened. Now that he knew she was a girl, he would understand what she had been trying to say the first time she had talked to him, about him looking at her in the stands. He would understand, if he hadn't forgotten.

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"Wow, that was intense!"

"Tell me about it!"

Jon and Laura walked to the parking lot together, both clutching their trumpet cases, smiles on their faces.

"I guess this means I get to carry my purse with me again," Laura said, opening her case to take out her keys when they got to her car. Laura popped the trunk and placed her trumpet in, shutting it with a slam.

"I guess this means I get to dig through your purse, looking for mints," Jon joked. "I've already pulled out something that turned out not to be a pack of tissues, so we don't have to worry about that!"

Laura laughed, trying to remember the last time she had laughed since talking with Jon before they were made Knights. She remembered crying, but Laura didn't want to remember tears at that moment. It felt so good to laugh! For good measure, Laura un-braided the rest of her hair that had not been ruffled during the fight and shook it out.

"I guess I should be going," Jon said, checking his watch. "I want to get home before my parents start to freak out. I want to clean up my face so it doesn't look like I was in a war or something."

"I should get home, too," Laura said, unlocking her car as Jon started to walk away. "Hey," she called after him, "Are we still friends?"

"Best friends," Jon answered, getting to his own car. "Just remember that, Laura! Best friends!"

Laura couldn't resist laughing again as Jon got into his car and honked at her on his was out of the parking lot, disappearing into the night. She was so happy that she still had such a good friend in Jon.

Even if she didn't have her love left for Thomas.

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_There we are! A really long chapter for those who like really long chapters! This is easily the longest I've written for this story, but I didn't mind it. Hehe... Any comments? I'd be happy to hear about them! Thanks for reading!_


	20. Jon And Laura

_Hello, everyone! Sorry I had such a long gap in chapters! I was working at a music camp as a teacher, like I wrote before in my profile (it's gone now, so don't bother to check! ) and that it would take me a week before I could write again. Needless to say, that is a long time to wait! Some of the time at the music camp, I thought "I should write this into one of my stories!" or "This reminds me of Hearts Of Glass (sort of)" but, usually, I was just trying to come up with ideas. I had a good time at the music camp, too; being a music teacher is what I'm going to school for and I know that is what I want to do with my life. At any one time, I was working with French horn players and I even had a class of 34 trumpet players earlier in the week; it was crazy, but I got to play on a lot of fun instruments!_

_I apologize if you've reviewed and I never answered back! I don't think I can go back and right that wrong, but I'll respond to every review you send me, because I like to be polite! For all of you Thomas/Laura shippers, there might be something coming up for you in later chapters. For all of you Jon/Laura shippers, you will just have to wait and find out if they stay friends or if they become something more... For all of you Deleyney/Laura or Hamon/Laura shippers, you're out of luck! Hehe. Someone said that Thomas reminded them of Malfoy from Harry Potter and, come to think of it, he does sound like Draco Malfoy, but Thomas is based off a real person I know. He isn't just like Thomas, but looks and acts a little like Thomas does. So, either I know a real-life Malfoy, or it's a coincidence! Hehe again! Anyway, you want to read a chapter, not a babble, so here_ _we go!_

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**Jon and Laura**

Laura noticed that, during the practices following the fight, the rest of the corps was either in strong support of her or hated to even say her name. Some of them still called her "Lee," and she didn't mind that; it made her remember what she had to do in order to just get into the corps. Besides, it was how people had known her before the big surprise, and Laura smiled when someone would try and correct himself by calling her by her real name. Jake made sure to call her Laura when they talked, which was before practice nearly every day, but called her Fifth Soprano in front of the corps members as well as during practice. Jon called her Laura and teased her about her old name.

"Lee, huh?" he had asked before the first practice after the meeting, nudging her with his elbow. "I just thought you were an exceptionally good looking guy; I don't swing that way, but, I knew there was something about you the first time I saw you!"

Laura blushed after this statement, nudging him back. Did Jon just say he thought she was pretty, or was he just making a comment off the top of his head? Boys... Now that they knew she was a girl, they would either be over analyzing everything they said to her, or not analyzing at all. Mr. Hamon and Mr. Deleyney treated her the same as ever, trying to show the corps that it didn't matter she was different: she was going to be treated the same as the rest of them. That included the same punishments and rewards. Some of the corps members had apologized to her for not stepping in and "rescuing" her from the incident with Thomas and the push ups, but she told them not to worry about it. Laura was not going to pit that bitterness against them; how would they have known? Laura knew full well that some of them would protest against punishing Laura like that again, the chivalry of The Knights coming through in them, but she wasn't going to let that happen.

Ever since that meeting, she had never missed a step in the routine.

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"So, does it feel good to finally carry your purse around?" Thomas asked Laura as they walked to the parking lot together, practice over. It had been nearly a week after the meeting and the night was freezing cold, Laura huffing into the air to see her breath.

"It is nice, actually!" Laura exclaimed, never really thinking about it until that moment. "Now, I don't have to dig my keys out of my trumpet case and I have real tissues in here!"

Laura dug around in her bag and whipped out a pack of tissues, Jon blushing before he realized it was really a pack of tissues. Laura blushed herself as he held the door open for her, smiling as she walked by him. She had never had a boy hold open a door for her.

"Hey, do you want to sit in the car, like we did before we both found out we were Knights?" Laura asked, raising her eyebrows hopefully. Jon nodded his head and the two walked across the parking lot to Laura's car, Laura locking her trumpet in her trunk first. She put the key in the ignition and turned on the radio, the volume low. Once they were sitting there, neither one of them knew what to say.

"Um, so, how have things been going?" Jon asked softly, scratching at an invisible mark on his pants leg, never looking up.

"Fine. I've been doing push ups at home."

"Really? Do you get out of step there, too?"

Both of them chuckled, knowing it wasn't really that funny.

"No, but I want to be prepared next time something bad happens, like being called out in front of the corps to do push ups. I don't want to be dismissed for an evening again."

"But, Laura, you haven't been messing up. It's like you're a whole new person since we found out about- You know, about..."

"Well, the way I look at it is that Lee was not a marcher. Lee had never been in marching band, Lee had never blown a whistle, Lee had never played the trumpet. Laura was in marching band, Laura has a whistle, Laura knows how to play. And I'm Laura."

There was easy silence between the two of them, the radio keeping the moment from being uncomfortable.

"I'm being stupid, huh?" Laura asked, realizing she was talking to a guy and not one of her girlfriends. "That poetic stuff doesn't come from the mouth of a Knight."

"You're right, that poetic stuff doesn't come from a Knight," Jon said hesitantly, seeing Laura's face fall before finishing his sentence. "That poetic stuff comes from a princess. You're a member of The Knights Drum Corps, but you're a princess, Laura. You're the princess of this drum corps. What you said was beautiful and it even made sense. Usually, when I just talk with a girl, I don't understand a single word they're saying. I understand you."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Laura asked, thanking the night for being so dark so Jon couldn't see her blushing.

"No," Jon answered simply.

"Do you want one?"

Jon looked at her, a gleam in his eyes. Laura could have smacked herself in the head. She hadn't meant it the way it came out; she was just curious if he wanted a girlfriend or if he was the sort of guy who liked the single life. She didn't want to be his girlfriend!

"Do you know what I really want?"

Laura held her breath. What was she doing? Great, now she had just ruined their friendship by accidentally asking him to be her boyfriend. She didn't want him as a boyfriend, she didn't want a boyfriend at all! What-

"I want to dig through your purse for mints, like you promised!"

As Jon nearly jumped into the purse, Laura let go of her breath in a whoosh, smiling. Thank goodness Jon was "guy enough" to not understand what Laura had not meant to say. At least things were not as awkward anymore and Laura knew that Jon was just her friend. She wouldn't have it any other way, Laura decided as she dug into the purse along with Jon, playfully trying to tug the mints away from him.

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_There we are! This was not as long as some people might have hoped, and maybe just long enough for other people. Thanks so much for reading and please tell me what you think! Thanks!_


	21. Snow, Fire, And Blood

_I've had a lot of people tell me that Jon and Laura should have kissed at the end of the last chapter, but I don't think it's to that point, yet! There will be a kiss before the end of the story, but for now, I want to get back to the actual drum corps part of the story. Romance and personal relationships are okay in a plot line, but I've never really believed in centering a marching story around it. Marching is love, love is marching. Hehe... anyway, here we are with another chapter!_

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**Snow, Fire, And Blood**

Laura had to say she was distracted by the sight of the practice flags, their bright blue hue catching the bright stadium lights. The ripple and crack as they flew through the air threw her off her music, and Laura hoped Jon wouldn't notice she was not playing as loud now as she had before the color guard was added into the routine.

It was going to snow soon. Laura had thought this for a few weeks now, but now everyone knew the snow was on it's way. The moon was occasionally blocked by heavy gray clouds, and the air was so chill that Laura could almost see the steam coming off Jake and Thomas as they conducted at the front of the field.

This time, as the percussion line came up behind the trumpets, Laura remembered to move out of the way for Andrew to go by, the section leader trying to get close to Laura on purpose to see if he could trip her.

He failed. Laura smiled.

It had been this way since the meeting; Matt and Andrew had not said a word to her or about her, but Laura was not an idiot to think that they were not going to try and sabotage her again. The only differences between last time and next time were that they knew she was a girl and she was ready for their attack.

The whistle came over the noise of the color guard and Jake's voice overthrew the sound of the Dr. Beat. Laura stopped along with the rest of the group, remembering to stand at perfect attention. It was colder to stand still than to move around, however, and Laura wished her jacket was thicker. She was wearing warm woolen warm up pants, left over from a school sport she had be involved in last year, and her letter jacket was heavy, but she still felt cold. Her black mittens held the trumpet steady, Laura afraid that the trumpet would slip from her grasp and bring attention to herself. She held onto the brass instrument tighter and looked straight ahead, although she wished she could have been looking at Thomas. She wondered how handsome he was looking at that moment, going up and down the lines, looking so lost and so regal in his own outer apparel, his black gloves over delicate hands...

Laura fought the urge to shake her head and laugh. What an idiot she was being. The previous night, she had sat in her car with Jon, fighting over mints before settling back and listening to the radio together before her cellphone had gone off. Her parents were mad at her for being so late home from practice, but Laura didn't care; she had had so much fun with Jon. But, although she thought her heart would never recover from Thomas and his caustic remarks, Laura found herself still wanting him to look at her, to tell her she was doing a good job. Her brain was telling her she should just leave it well alone, but her heart was telling her to look at Thomas and see if he was truly what she wanted. Did she want to try and talk to him again.

Daring to peek down the line of trumpet players, she saw Thomas show someone the proper way to hold their instrument at attention, teaching him how to line the trumpet up with everyone else's trumpet when they were standing still. Laura could hear his voice and stood at the best attention she could as Thomas made his way down the line, inspecting with his keen eye, correcting every detail he found wrong.

"Nice job," he said to Sixth Soprano, the performer on her left side. Laura held her breath and pushed herself to perfection as Thomas walked in front of her. To her surprise, he stopped and stared at her, crossing his arms and standing at attention in front of her. Laura panicked. Was she doing something wrong? What was there that he was looking for? Laura could hardly see Thomas, gray haze starting to cloud her vision. She felt weightless, everything numb. Eventually, she let out her breath and started to breathe again, fighting the dizziness that was creeping up on her. Laura was startled to see Thomas smile slightly, that half smile that showed he was pleased.

"You see," he said aloud, addressing Laura and the surrounding trumpet players. "If you don't breathe, you will pass out. If you pass out, there may or may not be someone there to pick you up. You can stand at attention for as long as you want, but only if you are breathing properly. The same with the percussionists. If they are playing a fast cadence, some of them might hold their breath, trying to concentrate only on what they are playing. If they do that long enough, they are going to fall out of step, miss a beat, or even collapse. You cannot live without oxygen, so don't even try and prove me wrong. Same with locking your knees. If we are at attention for a longer period of time and you lock your knees, you're going to faint."

Laura felt angry with herself for being a tool for a lesson. She had tried hard, but messed up again. Thomas moved back along the line, arms crossed tightly across his chest, occasionally tapping someone to tuck in their stomach or stand up straight, moving people's instruments to ensure a straight line.

"Don't worry about it, Laura," Jon whispered, still staring straight ahead. "You're fine. You know, I would like to give Thomas something to talk about. You're making the corps better by messing up just a little. If he addresses it, we all fix it, and it's thanks to you that we did."

"Thanks, Jon, but that doesn't really make me feel any better."

"You're welcome."

As Thomas walked back to the podiums in front of the field, Laura felt something cold fall on her nose. Ignoring it, Laura felt the cold thing drip from the tip of her nose and run down onto her upper lip, tickling. Another cold drop fell on her face, and another, and another. Focusing her vision, Laura could see that there were white things flying everywhere, that they were landing on the ground and not melting.

It was snowing.

Laura felt her heart leap. She loved snow. She loved snow ever since she could remember. Eventually, as winter drew on and on, snow became less of a novelty and more like a bother to other people, but Laura loved the snow from the first snowfall to the last. More flakes fell and she could see Jon smile out of the corner of her eye. She hoped he liked snow, too. Thomas stopped in the middle of the field, adjusting his headset, talking with Mr. Hamon, who was standing in the bleachers, hanging over the fence.

"We will be practicing in the snow," Jake said, his voice booming over the speakers. "If anyone has a problem with this, speak now."

Not a word was spoken. Laura smiled. She had always wanted to practice in the snow. More snowflakes fell on her face and Laura fought the urge to sneeze as the flakes melted and dripped. Moments later, Laura lost the battle and sneezed, ramming her nose straight into her hard metal mouthpiece.

Instead of snow dripping from her nose, there was blood, bright red liquid pouring down her face. It dripped onto her trumpet and onto the ground, staining the snow. Laura looked to Jon, horrified, hoping she didn't just break her nose. Jon, looking over to say "Bless You" to Laura, saw her fearful eyes looking up at him, and he pulled tissues out of his jacket pocket to staunch the flow. Laura had never had a nosebleed like this before and wondered if this was how Thomas felt during the fight the corps had had the other week, remembering how awful he had looked. She hoped she didn't look as bad as he did.

"Come on, I'll take you to the building," Jon said, taking her trumpet from her and putting it on the ground, grabbing her elbow. Other corps members who saw Jon trying to run with Laura at his side, Laura bleeding all over the place, either worried for her or sneered. Those who had heard her sneeze knew that she had hit her nose on her mouthpiece; she wasn't the first musician to ever do so. One of them had even broken his nose, but usually they were not badly hurt. Just enough to worry the marching director.

"What happened?" Mr. Hamon asked, seeing Jon and Laura run toward the bleachers, Laura clutching bloody tissues.

"She sneezed and-"

"Don't say anything else," Mr. Hamon said, taking Laura's arm from Jon and starting to lead her away.

"Wait, I'm coming with!"

"No, Jon, they need you down on the field."

"But-"

"Jon, after I get her taken care of, you can come back, but for now, you need to go and do your job."

Laura looked back at her friend as the marching director rushed her away, Jon sighing and contemplating going after her and ignoring Peter's orders. However, he knew the director was right: he had a job to do. Laura would be okay if he wasn't there with her for a few minutes. Turning around, Jon jogged back to the field, getting back to his spot where Thomas was waiting.

"So?"

"So what?" Jon asked, picking up Laura's trumpet as well as his own.

"What happened to her?"

"Bloody nose."

"All that drama for nothing?" Thomas said, rolling his eyes. "Why couldn't she have sucked it up, stuffed the tissue up her nose, and kept going?"

"Because she's not like that. She wouldn't bleed all over the place to prove a point. She doesn't need that."

"Give me her trumpet," Thomas ordered, holding out his hand. "I'm going to take it to her."

"When?"

"Now."

"But you have a job to do. You're the Assistant Drum Major, and I'm just Fourth Soprano. If Mr. Hamon isn't going to let me follow her, he wouldn't be happy with you if you went to her."

"You don't know that," Thomas answered, seeing the fire burn brighter in Jon's eyes with every word he said. "You don't know that. Laura wouldn't mind some company, I suppose, seeing that Mr. Hamon needs to be back here in a few minutes anyway to instruct the group in the next set. Jake can handle conducting solo for a little while."

Jon's eyes burned brighter as Thomas began to walk away, Jon finally reaching out to grab Thomas's jacket sleeve as the drum major turned.

"Don't make her cry," Jon said. "She's in pain, she's hurt. She doesn't need you to teach her a lesson right now."

Thomas' face was as cold as the snow around him as he looked at Jon.

"Don't make her cry," the trumpet player repeated, answering to Jake's order of attention over the speakers and snapping his trumpet up, his fiery eyes never leaving Thomas. The drum major turned away from Fourth Soprano and walked across the field, signaling to Jake he needed to leave for a moment. Jake nodded as he counted off the corps.

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_There we are! I just love writing dramatic, silly stuff like that! Anyway, please tell me what you think! (I know someone once who sneezed and bloodied his nose on his mouthpiece, so that's not a pretty sight. As a drum majorette, I had to go and help fix him up, so I apologize if it's really disgusting right now... ) Please tell me what you think and I'll update soon! Thanks! (Once again, usual disclaimer here.) _


	22. Thomas And Laura

_Hello! Thanks, everyone, for the great reviews! I have to admit that, going back and reading the last chapter, I thought it was one of the worst chapters I've ever written. There was just something about it that drove me nuts, so I went back and changed a little bit of it. Not much, but enough to make it read easier. Much easier. _

_So, I know that a lot of you are Thomas/Laura shippers, so I think that you are going to like this chapter a lot! If you are a Jon/Laura fan, you might not like it. It's all about what you personally prefer! I love writing the dramatic, so here we go!_

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**Thomas And Laura**

Laura sat in the auditorium, a roll of toilet paper on one side, a wastebasket on the other. Mr. Hamon had told her to stay in the bathroom until the nosebleed stopped, but Laura didn't feel like taking any more orders. As soon as the director had walked her into the school, barging right into the girl's bathroom with her, Laura decided she just wanted to be alone. She almost pushed Mr. Hamon out of the bathroom and shrugged off his advice, sighing thankfully after he left. Grabbing a small wastebasket from a corner of the bathroom and nearly breaking a dispenser to get a roll of toilet paper, Laura headed to the auditorium, something about that room pulling her there.

As she sat there, clutching tissues to her nose, Laura looked around the auditorium. It was beautiful, the red velvety seats so comforting after marching out in the cold, the dim lights assuring Laura she could go to sleep if she wanted to. Going to sleep at the moment was not the best idea, she thought, and she wondered if anyone had ever drowned because of a nosebleed. The lights were just as dim on the stage, the beautiful hardwood floors strange and smooth compared to the rough grass of the practice field, and Laura had to adjust her eyes to bear the harsh gleam of lights reflecting off the wood. The room was silent, any sound Laura made echoing lightly off the walls before sinking into the fabric of the seats.

Laura heard the slight creaking of the auditorium doors open and shut, a narrow beam of light intruding upon the peaceful half-darkness Laura sat in before disappearing as quickly as it came. Quiet footfalls came down the steps and Laura ignored the sound, assuming Jon had come for her. But, Jon would have made more noise than this. It wasn't Mr. Hamon, because that man make an extraordinary amount of noise wherever he went. Laura's guess would be Mr. Deleyney, coming to check on her. But, the flash of blond hair and pale skin caught her eye, and Laura was startled to find Thomas sitting next to her, her trumpet in his hands. Neither of them spoke for what seemed to be minutes, the only movement in the auditorium consisting of Laura tossing away used tissue paper and Thomas' fingers pressing down the trumpet valves, occasionally screwing and unscrewing the caps. Finally, Thomas spoke.

"I understand, now, what you said the first day."

"What did I say?" Laura asked, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"You wouldn't have forgotten. You know, Laura," Thomas answered, fingers still dancing over the trumpet.

Laura bit her lip and felt embarrassed to be holding a tissue to her nose at such a crucial moment in her drum corps life, as short as was so far. What an idiot she was. Laura could hear the words in her own head, replaying that moment on her first day.

_"You know, I saw you at a performance last season and you looked at me."_

_"What?"_

_Laura winced. Why did stupid stuff keep coming out of her mouth? What was wrong with her?_

_"You, um, glanced at me."_

_That summer night came back so vividly is was as if it had happened yesterday instead of months ago. She had seen him and felt a fluttering in her heart, his eyes looking at her as if she was the only person in the world..._

_"I don't remember this. I thought you said you had a poor memory?"_

_"Yeah, sorry, I must be wrong."_

Laura took in a breath to speak, but let it go, shaking her head. Thomas looked up at her.

"Say it. I know the words you want to speak."

"Then why do I have to say them?"

"Laura," Thomas said, exasperation apparent in his voice, "I know now. None of us knew you were a girl at that point, except the directors. You forgot you were supposed to be a boy. I have to admit I didn't think about what you said until practice was over that night, and then, when I remembered the look in your eyes, I was a little freaked out. I remembered that moment that you told me, that summer night when I broke concentration and looked into the stands, something telling me I had to look. I didn't forget something as small as that, as stupid as it sounds."

"I didn't forget, either. That's why I was so excited to see you, to talk to you."

"I can imagine how upset you must have been, my drum major attitude taking over. It takes over almost all that I do."

Laura looked at Thomas, who wasn't looking at her anymore, but down at her trumpet instead. The wall of ice and fire was finally splitting, letting Laura see who Thomas really was. As soon as she looked at him, however, his eyes became cold once more, and he stiffened up.

"I was always a trumpet player, until last year," he said, looking down at Laura's trumpet. "When I found out I finally was a drum major, even just an assistant drum major, it was the happiest moment of my life. Last year was amazing because I had hope. I thought that I would be one of the lucky few drum majors ever to stand up and accept the first place trophy at championships, right at Jake's side. That third place loss was awful."

"What happened that the corps fell from first to third?" Laura whispered, his answer already in her ears.

"The section leaders had gotten together the night before the final performance, in one of the rooms of the college we were being boarded at for championships. Usually, we all just go to bed, go straight to sleep, knowing that we can celebrate the night after we win. But, the section leaders met in someone's dorm and talked long into the night. Someone brought Robert up, the subject of his death. That was depressing enough as it was. But Jake himself let it slip that we were in financial trouble and that it might be the last season for The Knights."

Laura could hear Thomas' voice grow cold, as cold as his eyes, as he continued.

"The next morning, the section leaders, worn out by lack of sleep and flood of emotion, put extra pressure on their sections, and Jake and I were not helping relieve that pressure. Jake and I had had a fight right before we went onto the field, and we spited one another, both of us trying to take control when we were supposed to work together. Because of the pressure, each section got on one another's nerves, and tried to take charge of the field. The patterns on the judges scores showed that we were not working together as a corps. Because they were tired, the section leaders didn't remember their solos as well, and-"

Thomas stopped talking and sat still, his fingers resting gently on the trumpet keys.

"Because you all wanted to do well for the corps, everyone cost themselves the title," Laura said softly, realizing the full extent of what Thomas was saying. Thomas nodded his head.

Laura took the tissue away from her nose and saw that she had stopped bleeding. Thomas looked up and put the trumpet in the seat next to him, reaching for Laura's face.

"The bleeding has stopped, but does your nose feel broken?"

"I've never had a broken nose, so I wouldn't know."

"I'm going to be as careful as I can, but just hold still."

Laura felt her heart beating faster and faster and broke into a chill sweat as Thomas took her chin in one hand, gently touching her nose to check or any other injury. Laura knew as well as he did that, if something really was wrong, she would have to go to the doctor and Thomas was not skilled enough as a physician to find everything that might be wrong with her.

"It's going to be bruised, for sure," Thomas said, speaking softly, Laura noticing he had a slight accent she couldn't place. "Your left eye might be a little bruised, too, seeing where the swelling is. Can you tell it's swollen?"

Laura could tell, yes, because his fingers were cold on her skin, and she could feel the puffiness as she reached up with her own hand. Her fingers brushed across his and Thomas took his hand away quickly. Laura tried to catch his eye as Thomas let go of her jaw, but he didn't look at her.

"Do you want to know one of the best days of my life?" Laura asked, blurting out the words before thinking. Without waiting for an answer, Laura went on.

"It was when I became the drum majorette for my marching band. So many people depended on me. It was up to me to make the band better, to teach them, to fix their mistakes. But, that led me to one of the worst days of my life."

"What was that?" Thomas asked quietly, Laura almost unable to hear him.

"It was the night my band fell apart and I was left with nothing."

They sat in absolute silence for several moments, just long enough for several deep breaths, before Thomas got up, handing Laura her trumpet.

"Here's your instrument," he said, assuming his drum major attitude once more. "I've stayed for too long. The corps needs me. You can go home and rest before tomorrow night's practice."

Laura took the instrument and looked it over, seeing every little fingerprint Thomas made on it. Arranging herself in her chair so she could see Thomas as he walked up the steps to the auditorium exit, Laura called out.

"Wait!" she said, one last thing on her mind. Thomas stopped without turning around, waiting.

"When I told you- When you saw me in the stands that night, did you feel the same way I did? Did you feel what I felt?"

Thomas waited several seconds before answering.

"Jon said I couldn't make you cry. I can't answer that. I can't make you cry."

Thomas strode out of the room, his bearing militant and proud. Laura sunk back into her chair, tears forming in her eyes. Laura refused to let those tears fall, though, and clung to the trumpet, curling her legs under her. She sat in the auditorium until she heard the rest of the corps pass through the hallway on their way to the parking lot, on their way home, none of them except one knowing what Laura was going through, alone in the theater.

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_There we are! Man, I love this chapter! I just do, for some silly reason! Thanks so much for reading and please tell me what you think! Thanks again!_


	23. Fighting Her Own Battles

_So, I've gotten really mixed reviews on what Thomas said to Laura in the last chapter. A few people loved it, a few people hated it. I personally could go either way, because I'm flexible about my writing, but there is a reason why Thomas said he couldn't make her cry. And not just because Jon is watching over Laura like a hawk. _

_I want to say thank you for all the great support so far. I even have a reader who's name is "Thomas and Laura Fan Forever," so, you don't have to go THAT far to show me you love the story, but it's really cool so many people are into it! Who knows, this might be one of those stories that have fanfiction stories about it! Hehe... Not hinting, just babbling. Speaking of babbling; once again, I warn everyone who reviews: I try and answer as many of the reviews as I get, but I either keep it short and sweet or try to analyze the story in the review. Hehe again._

_Anyway, I honestly have no clue what is going to be in this chapter (I'm tired at the moment from a football game last night, so excuse me if I'm out of it...) but I think it's going to be fun! Thanks again and keep those reviews coming; I love to hear what my readers have to say!_

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**Fighting Her Own Battles**

"Okay, listen up, corps!"

The auditorium fell silent and Thomas had to resist a smile. At the beginning of the season, he had tried to address them, but the boys had just kept talking. Now, he didn't need Mr. Hamon because they were listening. Maybe they were silent now because they knew how much authority Thomas actually had, but perhaps they were turning into Knights more and more every day.

"Now, we have a lot of work to get done today. If you're not in here, getting your uniform, you will be in sectionals in the gymnasium."

Several people groaned, but were silenced immediately by their section leaders.

"Mr. Deleyney will be issuing the uniforms, Mr. Hamon and Jake will be checking the uniforms for proper fit, and I will be taking measurements, seeing as no parent volunteers have arrived," Thomas said, exasperated. He caught Mr. Hamon's look of straighten-up-and-get-a-move-on and did so, dismissing the corps members and calling the percussion to get fitted first.

Andrew tweaked Laura's braid as he went past her, Laura jumping in surprise. Jon glared at the percussion leader and resisted the urge to go after him and pound that smarmy face into the carpet. Laura rubbed the back of her head where he had pulled and glared, too. So, Andrew had gotten as low as to resort to the second grade trick of pulling braids? That sort of attitude was befitting of the section leader; it wasn't enough just to try and trip her on the field anymore?

"Jon, don't," Laura said as the trumpet player started to go after Andrew, the need to hit him too strong to resist. "Don't hit him just for me. He's just being an idiot."

"You've got that right," Jon muttered, glaring at Andrew as if to bore holes in the back of his head. Laura bit her lip. Ever since that night a week ago when she had bloodied her nose on her instrument, Jon had been way overprotective. It was getting annoying, almost, and Laura wished he would just let her fight her own battles when it came to Matt and Andrew... and Thomas. She wasn't going to tell Jon what she thought, though, because she felt guilty for even thinking it. He had been such a good friend, but Laura wanted to see more of Jon's smile than Jon's fury at the injustice Laura was dealing with. Laura grabbed Jon's hand and began to pull him out of the theater, realizing that almost everyone was already heading toward the gymnasium. Jon let her lead him up the steps, mumbling under his breath.

Laura felt someone watching her, though, and felt shivers creep up her spine. Turning around, in case Andrew was preparing for another attack, Laura saw Thomas, eyes of ice on her and Jon. His face was cold and his hands clenched into fists at his side, his aquiline face full of anger and other mixed emotions that Laura couldn't pick out. All Laura knew was that Thomas was furious. Why? She felt a tugging on her hand as Jon tried to pull her along behind him, looking up to see his face smiling at her, a curiosity in his eyes.

"What's a matter?"

Before Laura answered, Jon looked down at the stage and saw Thomas there, watching them. Mr. Hamon walked up behind Thomas and poked him in the shoulder, telling him to get a move on for the uniforms. Thomas obeyed, but not before casting one more icy glare at Jon. Jon shook his head and gently tugged on Laura's hand.

"Come on, Laura. Let's go to the gym."

Laura followed, the raw anger Thomas had displayed bright in her mind.

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"Thomas really needs to get a life."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because, he has nothing better to do than glare us and pick on you."

"Thomas doesn't pick on me anymore, Jon. You're just imagining it..."

"No, I'm not. He doesn't do anything to stop Andrew and Matt from annoying you. I'm the only one here who does that!"

Jon and Laura had made it to the gymnasium and were standing together by the bleachers, Laura's arms crossed. Matt was doing nothing to round up the trumpets for a sectional, and other section leaders seemed reluctant to start a practice if no one else was interested. For the most part, the Knights sat on the gym floor or stood in groups, talking and laughing like a group of guys would. Laura wished that Jon would go and join a group of guys, or try to start a sectional, or something; just so he would leave her alone about the Thomas-thing.

"But, he obviously-"

"Jon, I'm not going to fight with you on this! I can fight my own battles!"

Laura was amazed at her own voice and how shrill it had become in the gymnasium, causing several other corps members to look around for the source of the noise. Jon looked startled, and he frowned gently.

"Laura, I thought we were friends."

"We are friends, Jon. You just- You're getting so overprotective! It's annoying! If I've gotten this far, I know that you don't need to be with me every moment of every practice! Thomas doesn't hate me, okay?"

Jon's face fell, causing Laura to instantly feel awful about what she had just blurted out.

"Jon, I'm- I'm sorry, I just-"

"I'll leave you alone, then."

Jon moved past her, trying not to touch her as he walked away. He put his hands in his pockets and disappeared among the crowd of boys, Laura unable to find him after a few moments. She thought about walking around and finding him and apologizing, but then decided he could be off on his own. If she didn't want him there with her, there was little chance that he would want her there with him. Several boys asked her where her "boyfriend" had gone and if she wanted help finding her "boyfriend." She glared at them and ignored the catcalls and jeers, finding a seat by herself on the bleachers.

She had gotten what she wanted: time away from Jon, away from his 'mothering' and his constant worry for her, but had to admit it was lonely without him.

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Laura bit her lip as she walked back into the auditorium with the rest of the trumpets. Jon was several people behind her and Laura was torn between giving him the cold shoulder or going back to stand with him and apologize. She had never been in this sort of situation before, with one of her best friends mad at her and a drum major mad at her at the same time. It didn't help that Matt was closer than Jon was in the line to get uniforms; if he were to say or do something mean, would Jon be there to help her out?

"Hey, girl!"

Laura heard Matt calling to her a few people down the line and she ignored him, feeling eyes on her. There was only one girl in the corps and everyone knew that.

"Hey!"

Matt called again and Laura continued to ignore him, biting her lip. What was she going to do? She didn't want to have to deal with this bully right now, not when life was chaotic as it was. Couldn't his mean remarks wait until another day, a day where everything didn't seem to be falling apart?

"I'm talking to you!"

Matt grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, Laura bracing herself and snapping back at the section leader.

"What do you want?"

"I wanna talk with you."

"I don't want to talk with you," Laura replied, the Matt's tone of voice telling her nothing good.

"Well, you'll talk to me if you know what's good for you. You've been messing around with prissy boy Jon over there, huh? And now he's mad at you? How sad!"

Matt punched Laura's shoulder none too gently and mocked her.

"And your point is?" Laura asked, eager to get all of it over with. She could deal with his cruel words as long as he kept it short. As it was, she was next in line to get her uniform and Laura didn't want anyone else to hear Matt picking on her again. She didn't want anyone to have to come to her rescue.

"You're just a common band slut," Matt said venomously. "You and Jon and Thomas and who knows all else, sitting in your car late at night. What a-"

"Matt, drop and give me fifty, right here."

Laura could have groaned as she saw Thomas walking up to them, measuring tape in hand. He looked formidable in the stage lights, but Matt didn't seem daunted.

"Or what, you'll send the marching guy over here and make me do them then? You can't tell me what-"

"Yes, I can. Now drop and do fifty. Or do you want sixty?"

"Seventy," Matt snapped, moving out of the line and starting the push ups, his eyes never leaving Thomas, who stood over him, nearly spitting venom. Several people, curious as to why Matt was doing push ups, looked around in the line and saw Laura standing there with Thomas, and a snicker went up among the group. Thomas and Laura, who heard this, both paled, Thomas taking control of the situation instantly.

"Fourth Soprano, drop and give me twenty."

"What?" asked Laura, shocked. "I wasn't doing anything!"

"Listen," hissed Thomas in her ear. "If I don't punish you, too, for causing a disturbance in the line, people are going to think I'm treating you soft and all of it's going to get worse. What do you want it to be?"

Bitterly, Laura got down and completed the twenty push ups, standing up and dusting her hands off, Matt almost done with his seventy. Why he had chosen to challenge Thomas by giving himself more push ups was beyond Laura; men did stupid things. Laura smiled as she realized she had just done twenty push ups without breaking out a sweat, like she had on the field weeks and weeks ago. Working out at home really did a lot for her.

"There, now you can get in line," Thomas said, pointing to Matt, who stood up and glared at Thomas. "And you come with me for your uniform." Thomas pointed to Laura and turned away, leaving Laura with no choice but to follow him.

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_So, who all hates Matt, raise your hands! Hehe... I love writing about villains because they are so vicious and nasty. Thomas is a half villain, half good guy right now, I think that's why so many people like him! Anyway, the next chapter is more about Thomas/Laura and then a little bit of Jon/Laura at the end, I think. It could change, either way... I don't really write off a list of things I need to put into the story. Randomly, I'm struck by an idea and I just write it in, which causes some confusion sometimes, but makes for a really good story! _

_I keep forgetting if Laura is fourth or fifth soprano. It's really annoying because I keep writing it down, and then I always lose the paper. Oh, well._

_Anyway, sorry for the long babble again. I'm just brainstorming! So, be sure to tell me what you think; every review you leave me (besides "update soon") make the plot bunnies work harder, which gives you a better story! (Honestly, anything at all gets me thinking...) Thanks so much and I hope to talk to you all soon; I'll update soon, too!_


	24. Uniform Issues

_Hello there! I understand that I've made a big mistake in the last chapter! Instead of Fourth Soprano, Laura is supposed to be Fifth Soprano. I apologize most humbly and thank everyone who pointed that out; that's what readers help the author with, right? So, I'm going to write it in that Thomas actually made the mistake and Laura is going to correct him, because I don't have the patience to go back into the previous chapter and fix it and reload it and all that jazz... I'm not lazy, I'm actually a very hardworking person, I just think that I can fix it this way instead of the other way! I find it funny that my readers understand the story better than I do and remember more, but I'm also writing a few other stories right now, and I get confused, like anyone else! Hehe... So, anyway, I'm not going to make any excuses and I'm going to leap right into the story._

_Oh, one last thing; am I taking too long with getting to the compitions or with spring training or anything? I'm heading to Christmas right now, and it's about late November at the moment. Any complaints or are we a-ok? Ha! Anyway, I won't keep you any longer..._

_(On 9/4/06, this chapter was deleted and then reposted due to technical errors. Nothing has been changed and this is the same chapter that was read before the removal and repost. Thank you. )_

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**Uniform Issues**

Laura followed Thomas across the room and down to the stage, still angry that Thomas had made her do push ups.

"You know, that wasn't very fair," Laura said, finding the flame of fury growing by the second; this was the second time since joining The Knights that Laura was angry with Thomas to the point where she wanted to storm off and leave him standing there like a fool. "First of all, I'm not Fourth Soprano, I'm Fifth Soprano, so get it right; second of all, you shouldn't punish the innocent in the corps, and third of all-"

"Laura?" Thomas asked, turning around so quickly that Laura nearly ran into him, ticking off her fingers as her rant came to a sudden halt. She was nearly touching Thomas and she backed up quickly, trying not to look afraid of him.

"Laura, do you feel like complaining the entire time when you're getting your uniform?" Thomas continued, his voice neither angry nor patient. "If so, we can fit you another time."

"No, I'm not coming back another time," Laura said, frustrated.

"Then you'll be respectful while I'm fitting you."

With that, Thomas turned around and Laura had no choice but to follow him. She could feel eyes on her from the rest of the trumpet players who were gathered on the steps, hardly daring to look at Matt, who was standing in the front of the line, glowering at her. Laura stood by, silently fuming as Thomas looked over the racks of uniforms with Mr. Hamon, the marching director frowning as Thomas tried to take several uniforms off a particular rack. Finally, after what seemed like minutes on end of just standing there, Laura noticed Mr. Hamon snatched the measuring tape from Thomas, who sighed and took over Mr. Hamon's job of handing out uniforms to people who were already measured.

Wait, people who were already measured? Laura bit her lip as Mr. Hamon came closer and shoved the measuring tape into her hand. Confused, Laura looked at it before giving a quizical look to the marching director, Mr. Hamon rolling his eyes.

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"You see those little lines on the tape?" Mr. Hamon said sarcastically, rolling his eyes again as he pointed to her hand, waiting for her to nod. Laura bit her lip harder. "You're going to go and come back in a few minutes with your measurements so we can give you a uniform that will fit you properly."

"Isn't Thomas supposed-"

"Yeah, and you know why Thomas doesn't want to measure you?"

Laura ran over the possibilities in her head, everything from being fat and smelly, to the fact she had just tried to pick a fight with him, none of them ringing a bell. Mr. Hamon's sneer faded a little as he realized how nieve she was.

"Listen, none of the leaders are going to touch you because you're a girl. Harassment, you know?"

"Harassment?" Laura asked, hardly believing her ears. "Making me do push ups for Matt's issues is harassment. Taking my measurements for a uniform is not."

"First of all," Mr. Hamon said, giving Laura a feeling of deja vous, "Matt is First Soprano to you. Second of all, what Thomas did was done for a reason; maybe you don't understand right now, but you were a leader, so I bet you'll figure it out before we all age out. Third of all, flat chested or not, no one is going to get close enough to you to take your measurements because we don't want to, we don't- None of-"

Mr. Hamon stopped talking and shook his head.

"You'll understand before we age out on that, too... hopefully. Now get backstage or into a bathroom or something and come back with your measurements."

The marching director turned away and went to help Thomas with uniforms as Laura stomped off stage. She understood the matter Mr. Hamon was trying to explain to her, but wanted to shout at them that they were pathetic. They couldn't understand that she was just like everyone else in this corps, except for a few obvious differences. Now, they were seperating her even more from the rest of the corps, and she could feel their eyes on her stronger than before, Jon being the only one not to gawk as Laura made her way up the steps and out of the auditorium, slamming the doors behind her.

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"I don't know why that was so hard," Mr. Hamon said, "The girl should understand by now that she is the only female here and there are just some things she has to do for herself."

"Why would you be having issues?" Mr. Deleyney asked, never looking up from his list of names and numbers. "Are you talking about Laura?"

"I don't see any other girls here," Mr. Hamon snapped. Mr. Deleyney shook his head.

"Peter, settle down, okay? You're going to cause a scene. I wondered who stormed out. I assumed it was Matt."

"If you would look up from that sheet, you would know that it was Laura who stormed out."

"Why would she do that?"

"Because I told her to take her own measurements."

This time, Mr. Deleyney looked up from his lists and sighed, shaking his head again.

"Peter, are you thick headed?" he asked, receiving a shrug and nothing else from the marching director. "That poor girl is probably off crying somewhere that you seperated her again from the group. She's a woman enough to deal with you taking her measurements. Or, you're just not man enough to look past the fact she needs a uniform and it's pretty hard to measure your height all by yourself."

"Look, then you go do it!"

"Fine, take over for me, and I'll go find her."

"Good luck risking a harassment accusation."

"I would have been more worried about that if you would have taken her measurements and not put up more of a fuss."

"So you were expecting this?"

"Something of the sort. When I come back, I don't want to hear about anything else I have to fix, okay?"

"Deal."

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Mr. Deleyney found Laura in an abandoned hallway, trying to measure her arm length by herself and finding a very hard time of it. He could have laughed, but felt more pity for the poor girl than anything else. He walked up to her and asked if she wanted any help, Laura shrugging and trying to untangle the measuring tape. As Mr. Deleyney measured her height, he asked her if everything was alright.

"It's as good as it can be right now," Laura muttered, obviously in a poor mood. "Jon and I are fighting, Thomas doesn't care, Mr. Hamon is being a jerk, and I'm tired. Not to mention the crap I have to put up with from Matt and Andrew."

"Don't swear, Laura."

"Sorry."

Mr. Deleyney measured her arm length, Laura digging her her pocket with her other hand to check if she had chocolate. No such luck.

"You know, everything is going to turn out alright," Mr. Deleyney said, smiling at her. "I'm not going to ask why you and Jon are fighting just in case it's a personal thing-"

"It's not anything weird, Mr. Deleyney. Jon is just being overprotective and it's making me mad. He's one of my best friends, but I need space, you know?"

Mr. Deleyney nodded as he fished a piece of paper from a pocket and took the pencil from behind his ear, holding the paper against the wall as he wrote down the measurements.

"Thomas doesn't seem to care a bit about me or anyone else, for that matter," Laura continued, the need to rant overpowering any sense of humility. "He's just a cold statue. He's only talked to me like a normal person once and- Anyway, he's just so mean! Then Mr. Hamon just shoves me out of the auditorium and embarasses me, using his usual sarcasm to make fun of the fact he won't take my measurements. And Matt and Andrew just need to get over whatever issue they have with me so life can go on and I don't need Jon always there to protect me."

Mr. Deleyney waited until Laura was done complaining to measure around her waist, trying to think about what to say. Apparently he had a bigger problem on hand than trying to find Laura a uniform small enough for her. He tried to find the right words so he could get his point across without embarassing her.

"Well, do you think there could be a reason why Matt and Andrew have an issue with you? Did you do or say anything to them?"

Laura stiffened and Mr. Deleyney held his hands up defensively, going back to the wall to write on the paper.

"Okay, if you didn't do anything to them, think about their point of view on this, Laura," Mr. Deleyney said, measuring the crown of her head for her hat. "This corps is a brotherhood, a sort of treehouse club, and the members are all boys with a 'no girls allowed' sign on the door of the treehouse.. Now, a girl just joined the club because the parents said she could come in and play, the parents being me and the other directors. How would you feel?"

Laura didn't respond, but he could tell she was mulling his words over in her head.

"I supposed I would feel angry that someone could do that, just tell me that the rules didn't matter and that a girl could join the club."

"And then what would you do to get her out?"

"I would stop making the club a fun thing to be a part of, hoping she would quit."

"If you loved the club enough, would you do anything to get her out of there?"

"I think so."

Without realizing it until that moment, Laura just explained the whole reason, or as much of the reason as possible, why Andrew and Matt were being so nasty. Suddenly, Laura felt very guilty for complaining, and she was shocked to find tears of shame forming in her eyes. Mr. Deleyney took her hip measurements and Laura was thankful he wasn't looking at her face, because Laura wanted to wipe away the tears as best as possible without letting him know.

"And Thomas, how do you think he feels?" Mr. Deleyney continued, jotting a number down on the paper. "He's loved this corps for years and years and now that he's a leader, in a position he's always wanted, he has to try and make the right choices. That includes doing what is best for the corps instead of what is best for himself. He has to devote himself to the corps and push out all the personal things that could get in the way. Ever since I've known Thomas, he's always showed his drum corps face; it's the lucky person who gets to talk with him without feeling like they were talking to the drum major; the actual Thomas is buried deep inside and he knows that's his vunerable spot."

"So, when I complain about-"

"You're insulting him when you do that," Mr. Deleyney finished for her, nodding his head. "This isn't marching band, where you can run around and goof off and then snap back to your drum major self. Some corps work like that, but not The Knights. We have our own fun at Christmas and after spring training and at the end of the season, but we try and keep a professional level. Thomas has that in him; I've never really seen the other side of him. Thomas is just doing what he has to do for the corps; I think, if he had a choice, he wouldn't make you do push ups just because First Soprano had a problem with you. He was submitted to the same sort of punishments when he was a trumpet player and look where it got him. It's making you a better person over all, if you just look at it that way."

Mr. Deleyney took her chest measurements and Laura shook her head. She was been lucky to see Thomas act like that in the auditorium the other week, after she bloodied her nose? Laura knew that those moments must have been rare for Thomas, but for the music director himself to never see that, she was lucky indeed.

"Mr. Hamon is just naturally a jerk, I suppose you could say. I'm not going to violate his trust in me by telling you more about him; you don't need to know anything about him. You just need to stay away from him when he's in a bad mood and be polite when he's- How can I say, 'accepting visitors' into his life."

Laura nodded and smiled as Mr. Deleyney announced he was done and she could come with him to get her uniform. As Laura followed the music director out of the hallway, but before they got back to the auditorium, Laura asked him one more question.

"What do you think I should do about Jon?"

"You need to do what you think is right when it comes to that. Remember, just don't accept the first thing you see; flip it around and look it over before you make judgements. You're a smart person. You'll figure it out. After you're done figuring it out, I'll be in the theater, waiting with your uniform."

Mr. Deleyney smiled at Laura before walking into the auditorium, Laura standing in the annex alone for several minutes before making up her mind. Walking into the theater, Laura called to Jon, who was trying to put his uniform away in his bag in the back of the auditorium. Jon silently got up from the floor and walked out into the annex with Laura, waiting for her to talk first.

"Jon," Laura said quietly, "I'm really sorry about snapping at you. I just needed to tell you I needed some room to fight for myself. I shouldn't have yelled it at you, though." Laura gave a nervous chuckle and waited for Jon to say something. Slowly, Jon broke into a big smile.

"I deserved it," he said, shaking his head and laughing. "I was being way too clingy and I wasn't letting you figure it out for yourself."

"I talked with Deleyney about it and I got it all figured out. Friends?" Laura asked, holding out her hand to shake his.

"Best friends," Jon answered, taking her hand and pulling her to him in a big bear hug, Laura laughing. This was the way life was supposed to be.

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_There we are! It's a long chapter, I think! Hehe... I liked this one a lot. I hope I didn't make any more mistakes. I like that Mr. Deleyney sort of helped her figure everything out and took responsibility for Laura. I love the end, too, because I can imagine it so perfectly! Ha! Well, please tell me what you think so I can get the plot bunnies running again. Thanks for reading and I'll write another chapter very soon! _


	25. Letters And Suspects

_Hello there! So, who else thought the DCI Finals were amazing? I was so inspired! I wanted to sit down and write my own drill and everything, but I figured that this was the story I could vent my creativity on! I got a lot of great feedback on the last chapter and I know that a lot of you are just eager for the next chapter! So, I won't keep you waiting._

_There was something else I was going to type, but I forgot it, so it wasn't that important, I guess. (Insert usual story disclaimer here; I don't own anything but the characters, plot line, and some of the events...)_

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**Letters And Suspects**

"You got a letter, too?"

"Yup."

"And you?"

"Same as Hamon."

The three directors sat at their usual table in their usual diner after ordering their usual meal. Tyler and Paul sat together across from Peter, who was stretched out as always, shades on his forehead even though summer was long gone. At least he had swapped the sandals for marching shoes, although Tyler had to wonder if Peter had any other footwear than sandals and marching shoes. Outside, a gentle snow was falling, the flakes melting as soon as they hit the window, leaving rivulets of water to puddle on the sidewalk. It was unusually warm for a snowfall, the temperature logically too hot for snow. Just as soon as it couldn't have gotten any colder, late November brought a heat wave. Not enough to take out the shorts, but not heavy snow jacket weather, either.

The three letters spread on the table were the topic of that night's meeting at the diner. They had gotten letters like this from the division leaders before and from the sponsors, but never from the drum corps corporation. Tyler looked at his letter from where it rested on the place mat before him, reading the bitter words once more.

_To the attention of Mr. Deleyney, Music Director of The Knights,_

_It has been brought to our attention that several rules have possibly been broken in the current season of drum and bugle corps, specifically in the manner of which practice has been conducted. As you know, we do not encourage more than four hours of practice per night per member, and it has been recognized that your practice per night exceeds four hours. Your corps currently, according to our records submitted by Mr. Hamon, Director of Marching And Tour, holds 135 members, exactly our limit of acceptable musicians. Working 135 members long than the recommended practice session leads to issues with the corps. You have three registered instructors for a corps of 135 members, which is almost very highly discouraged. Discipline cannot be achieved if there is a lack of instructors._

_According to our source, a fight ensued several weeks ago over a female. Whether the woman in question was related to the corps is unknown, but you will be reminded that your corps is registered under male-only funding. We would ask you to abide by the corporation rules and report such incidents in a prompt manner._

_We also have not received your list of sponsors from the current season. We would ask for that information to be sent at once to headquarters._

_Good luck with the season. Spring training begins in the middle of May. You will be contacted with information prior to spring camp._

_Sincerely,_

Tyler snorted as he read the scrawling signature at the end of the letter. He was furious just reading words of the letter, much less thinking about all the things that were implied. How did they know about the fight? He hadn't sent in a report on it because he had not suspended anyone from the corps. According to the general corps rulebook, a report only had to be filed if members were suspended.

"So, what's this about a female being involved?" Paul asked, picking up Tyler's letter. "Is Laura still hidden treasure to The Knights? How did they know it was about a girl?"

"Someone told them," Peter said, pounding his fist on the table. "Someone in the corps wrote a letter to headquarters and told them about the fight. They either mentioned Laura herself or just said it was about a girl. If headquarters found out there is a girl in the corps, they would be here in person, firing our-"

"Peter, come on," Tyler said, interrupting the marching director. "This is a family place; there's a kid right over there. What if he heard you?"

Peter shrugged, but shut his mouth.

"You're saying that, if they did know about Laura, they wouldn't go on like this? They would just say that our funding was cut and we were fired?" Paul read the letter again. He had not gotten one exactly like Tyler and Peter did; his letter was more of a warning to keep doing his job and do nothing but a good job or be fired by the corporation.

"I don't know," Tyler answered, putting his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table. "I don't know what they would do. If they know about Laura and are just taunting us, waiting for us to do the right thing and turn ourselves in, we're done for. If they don't know, we're still safe."

"Sounds like everyone is in real trouble here," Paul said, shaking his head as he folded Tyler's letter and looked at Peter's letter. It read the same way, except the names were switched where it was necessary. "Who do you think contacted headquarters?"

"Thomas."

Paul and Tyler looked up at Peter, who was starting at the shadows under the table as if they were giving him the name themselves.

"Why Thomas?" Tyler asked, slightly shocked. "Thomas loves this corps!"

"Exactly," Peter answered, his voice calm and cool as Tyler's voice rose.

"What do you mean, 'exactly'?"

"Thomas loves the corps enough to destroy it. If it isn't going to be a pure corps experience anymore, that things are changing drastically and the corps is not going to be the same, Thomas is the sort of person to destroy it than see it damaged."

"Where would he go, though, if The Knights was to disband? How could he live with himself?"

"Thomas has a cold heart."

Tyler raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes.

"Honestly, you don't mean to draw me in with that poetic nonsense, Peter, do you? It's not going to work. You can't convince me that, because Thomas has a cold heart and hates change, he's going to try and turn us in and get them to find Laura out! I can't believe that bull-"

"Language, Tyler," Paul gently reminded, spying a small boy in the corner of the diner, eating with his parents, swinging his legs under the table. "Remember?"

"Well, who do you think it is?"

"It's not Thomas," Tyler answered Peter's question venomously. "Thomas is too good of a leader to do that. He's not going to throw himself out of the drum major position, anyway. If he has a cold heart, like you say, he would keep the drum major position first on the list of things he wouldn't want destroyed. That's the way a cold heart works."

"I don't know the boys very well besides my color guard," Paul piped in, keeping his voice low as not to aggravate Peter into the same condition Tyler was in at the moment, "But, who's that boy in the battery? The drum line? He was Second Snare last year."

"Andrew is First Snare this year and the section leader; he's nasty, but a good leader. He likes playing too much to ruin a season just as it's starting. He couldn't join another corps at this point. He wouldn't screw himself out of a season."

"I agree," Tyler spoke up, adding to Peter's comment. "I mean, he's not out of the picture in terms of who would do this, but he's a section leader, something that takes a long time to reach in a corps. He might have written the letter to headquarters, but I don't think so, for some reason."

"Well, who else was involved in the brawl about Laura?"

Tyler and Peter thought a moment before Tyler blurted a name.

"Matt. The First Soprano Trumpet! He's a section leader, too, but he doesn't seem to like the corps as much as he seems to like being in command. As far as I know, he's not looking at joining any other corps and he's basically in the running for First Soprano Trumpet again next year, and the year after that, until he ages out."

"Hey, isn't that the same kid who nearly attacked Thomas for drum major position the other year?" Paul asked, remembering the incident that caused a bloody parking lot fight. "Thomas nearly needed stitches. Why is he still accepted in the corps?"

"He's not, really," Peter answered, his stomach growling. "He and Andrew hang around together, and they both have their own group of nasty kids who follow them, but Matt isn't popular with the rest of the corps. Tyler and I were considering banning him from The Knights, but we figured he was a person who could learn and grow from being in the corps. We gave him more more chance."

"Bad idea," Tyler said, sipping his ice water, sounding much like Peter and his usual sarcasm.

"Matt is a possibility. Andrew is a possibility. Thomas is a possibility. Who else?"

"I can't think of anyone else involved in the big Laura battle-"

Tyler stopped mid sip of his water and nearly chocked. Paul patted Tyler on the back and wiped up the water with his napkin while Peter raised an eyebrow, never looking up from the shadows under the table that had caught his attention.

"Jon."

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The three directors sat in silence, much like they had after they ordered, as their usual meal came to the table. The waitress smiled and each of them threw in a dollar, like usual. Everything was usual with them at this diner, this one place in the world where nothing would ever change if they didn't purposely change it. They didn't have a corps to direct when they were together, eating, enjoying the company. Tonight, though, instead of figuring problems out and correcting them, bigger problems had come up.

They had a list of people who had tried to turn in their corps and potentially destroy it:

Thomas, the drum major with the cold heart.

Andrew, the percussionist with a season on the line.

Matt, the section leader with hardly anything to lose.

Jon, the trumpet player with an obsession.

These were the only people who could possibly have a motive to put the corps in danger. Jon was put on the list simply because of his connection with Laura. To protect her, he might just try and destroy the corps, no matter what he himself loved.

If you love something more than anything else, you'll do everything to prevent it breaking.

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As the directors stood outside the door to the diner, the night sky blue and the air chill, Paul felt a snowflake fall and melt on his nose. He was hesitant to wipe it off because it formed such an interesting puddle. After getting a quirky look from the marching director, Paul obliged and wiped the water from his face, hoping for another snowflake very childishly. Tyler moved out of the way of the door as a family also left the diner, the parents saying a goodnight to the three men and telling their son to hurry behind them. The directors watched the little boy salute them and march to the family car, rolling his heels. None of them knew if he was playing at being a solider or a Knight.

Paul had to smile when he saw the little boy catch a snowflake on his face and watch the puddle form with wide eyes, his father wiping the water off before hoisting him into the car. Tyler waved back as the little boy shook his hand at them from behind the car window, a smile on the tiny face. Peter turned away and walked silently to his own vehicle, letting the wind and the falling snow carry that little boy away from his mind.

They all wondered if The Knights were going to be around for that little boy to find by the time he grew up.

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_There we are! What a sad chapter, I think. I'm not sure if it's as good as the other chapters I've done; I like to keep the director's dinners for finding out issues to talk about and figure out when the corps chapters come up. Thanks so much for reading and please tell me what you think! Thanks!_


	26. Addressing The Corps

_Hi, everyone! Wow, so, after last chapter, I have one vote for Thomas, one for Jon, and one for Matt on who sent the letter... Hehe. This is so much fun to write! I just love this story... I was thinking about this story the other night when I was getting ready for a football game to start and I realized I filled three or four notebook pages full of ideas on what is going to happen before the end! I have the end planned out, too, but I can't say anything specific. Sorry! The end is going to be a long way off, though, because we're just approaching Christmas and we need to go all the way to the end of August for the story to be complete. Watch for sequel ideas, too! I'm going to try and write one if this story goes well! Thanks for all the amazing reviews! This is the most reviews I've gotten for a story before and I smile! Plot bunnies are great things to have. _

_I also apologize for the misspelled words in the previous chapter and every other chapter! If something doesn't make sense, please tell me and I'll fix it or explain it! I love all the great reviews! Thanks so much to everyone who have taken the time to write to me; I'm so happy this story is so thought provoking!_

_Enjoy!_

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**Addressing The Corps**

The auditorium was fairly quiet, most of the boys talking in whispers. They didn't know what they had done to deserve another meeting in the theater and the section leaders were beginning to get anxious. They had not been told what this was about, which was the usual way of things. After the fight, no one had needed to be told what the meeting was about, but Mr. Deleyney always made sure to keep the section leaders in the loop.

Andrew sat in his chair with his head bowed, snapping at any percussionists who tried to talk with him. Matt wasn't far away, his followers from the trumpet section gathered around him. Jon and Laura sat together a few seats away from the rest of the trumpets, Jon's following whispering support to Laura and their unofficial section leader. They considered Jon more of a leader than Matt after what had happened on the field. Thomas stood on the stage, arms folded across his chest, chin up as his icy eyes swept the theater, daring anyone to speak up and ask him what this was about. He wouldn't be able to answer, because he didn't know himself.

As soon as the corps members arrived for their evening practice, they had been directed into the theater, Mr. Hamon pulling Jake away from the group as Mr. Deleyney and the color guard director ignored the many questions that came from the boys. Thomas had demanded to know what was going on, but Mr. Deleyney had shook his head, placing an understanding hand on his shoulder.

"Thomas, you'll find out soon enough. Is there anything you would like to tell me?"

The assistant major had been puzzled by this statement, biting back the words he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Mr. Deleyney there was something he wanted to say, indeed, and that was to ask him what the hell was going on. Thomas had followed his orders to wait on the stage and keep the corps in line until the moment directors and his fellow major came back.

That moment was now.

Mr. Hamon walked down the steps and left silence in his wake, the first rows before the stage falling quiet as the marching director jumped onto the stage and brandished a letter.

"Does anyone know what this is?" he asked, his voice booming. "Someone tell me!"

No one spoke, looking around the theater to see who else was going to risk getting attacked by the marching director if they were to offer an answer.

"First Snare!" snapped Mr. Hamon, pointing to Andrew, who had snapped his head up at hearing his position called. "Tell me what I hold!"

"A letter," Andrew said, loud enough to carry across the room. "It's a letter, sir."

"And how do you know that?"

"I guessed."

"Good guess," the director said venomously, ignoring as Mr. Deleyney, Paul, and Jake entered the theater and walked to the stage. "Lets see if you can get two in a row. Who is this letter from?"

"Your mother!" said one younger boy from the back, causing a few snickers. Mr. Hamon's face turned an interesting color of purple as he ordered the boy to give him forty push ups. The boy, knowing the marching director had saw him, got down on the steps and did his punishment, the joke still worth it.

"Just answer Mr. Hamon's question, someone, please?" Mr. Deleyney asked, raising his eyebrows and shrugging his shoulders. Matt raised his hand and the music director nodded his approval to speak.

"It's a letter from headquarters."

The two directors on the stage exchanged quick glances and Thomas looked questioningly to Jake for an answer to what was going on. Jake simply shook his head sadly and walked to the other end of the stage where Thomas couldn't ask him anything or even look at him. Thomas felt a snarl rise, but forced it down, unwilling to pick a fight with the other major in front of everyone. Especially when something so curious was going on.

"How did you know that, First Soprano?"

"I can see the seal on the corner of the paper," Matt answered, shrugging.

"You have good eyesight, then, because I can hardly see it and it's right in front of me," Mr. Hamon said, shaking his head. "Yes, it's from the headquarters. Does anyone know why?"

Jon raised his hand, causing Laura to frown. Why would Jon know about anything that came straight from headquarters? He was Fourth Soprano, not even a section leader. It was something for Thomas to know about, Laura looking down to where the major stood on the stage, looking displeased. It didn't seem Thomas knew about the letter at all.

"It's about Laura," Jon answered, causing Laura to catch her breath. The rest of the corps looked expectantly at the marching director, knowing full well what it meant if anyone found out about Laura.

Mr. Hamon slowly nodded his head, pressing his lips together. Thomas' eyes grew wide as the corps started talking wildly, several of them sending angry looks toward Laura, several whispering support to her. She grabbed Jon's arm and Jon bit his own lip, sighing.

"Tell me, Fourth Soprano, why you know it's about Laura?"

"Because it's always about Laura!" Matt snapped, standing up in his seat, pointing at her. Laura dug her nails into Jon's arm and he squirmed, trying to loosen her grip just a little so the blood could still circulate. "Ever since this season started, it's been about Laura! I'm sick of it! She needs to leave! She needs to go home! Let her go home to that marching band of hers, the one she said she's drum major of. If she's so good, she doesn't need to be here!"

Matt's followers stood and clapped, Andrew agreeing and working himself into a lather by making the rest of the percussion stand and clap, too. Laura could have cried and screamed at the same time, but did nothing except cling to Jon, who seemed on the edge of jumping out of his seat and punching Matt in his smarmy mouth. Laura could hardly think the thoughts that ran through her mind: someone had tried to turn her in. Someone had put everything on the line in order to get rid of her. Like Mr. Deleyney had said, some boys loved this corps enough to destroy it if she was going to stay. With panicked eyes, she sought out Thomas, who had marched to where Jake was standing on the other end of the stage. He was in a heated discussion with the Head Major and it seemed he was trying to hold his ground in a battle he was going to lose. Mr. Hamon jumped off the stage after Mr. Deleyney and the color guard instructor tried to bring order to the theater, jumping onto the tops of the front row seats. His balance was amazing because he managed to keep his usual appearance of an unforgiving wall of steel and whistle the loudest whistle Laura had ever heard a human make with just his fingers and mouth.

"Listen UP!"

Andrew and the percussionists sat down, their cheering over with, and Matt's followers sat down one by one, leaving Matt by himself in the middle of the theater, facing Mr. Hamon.

"What has gotten into this corps?" the marching director asked. "I'm sick of this. There have been nothing but problems ever since the season began and I think you all know that. In fact, I know you know it! What do we need to do, hire more instructors? Ask for more volunteers to keep an eye on you? Schedule more practice, less practice, no practice at all? What is going to happen to bring the old corps back? Who is going to have to leave?"

Mr. Hamon's words sunk into the minds of everyone listening and Laura felt tears come to her eyes. She knew he was talking about her. She knew she was going to get kicked out after all. At least she had been lucky enough to know Thomas and to talk with Mr. Deleyney and find such a good friend as Jon was. Just as she made to stand up and walk out, showing the corps that she had gave up and they had finally won, Jon pulled her down.

"Laura needs to leave!" Matt yelled, stomping his foot. "She is-"

"What, she's causing all the problems?" Mr. Hamon asked, jumping down from the seats and walking up the aisle that separated section from section, enemy from enemy, Laura from Matt. "She needs to leave?"

"Yes!" the section leader answered, his voice hurting Laura's ears.

"What do you say we kick someone out?" Mr. Hamon asked, addressing the whole corps. He reached down and seized Laura's arm, pulling her out of her seat. Laura kicked and tried to scratch at him, alarmed, hardly able to see through her tears of anger and fear. Mr. Hamon held her arm asked again, "What do you say someone leaves?"

Matt and his followers, along with several percussionists, cheered and taunted Laura while many of her supporters, including Jon, stood and disagreed, the level of excitement rising to a climax in the theater. Laura would always remember the look of horror on Mr. Deleyney's face, the intense glare on the color guard instructor's face, Jake's gasp that seemed to cut through the noise around her, and Thomas. Thomas stood there and did nothing. He didn't say a single word. He didn't even look shocked or surprised or angry or ecstatic. He stood there, his arms crossed, the ice wall well in place around him. Laura considered crying out and pleading with the instructors and majors on the stage to save her, and part of her wanted Jon to attack Mr. Hamon for doing this to her. The noise was too much and Laura was starting to feel sick and weak, her legs shaking.

"You are now dismissed from The Knights Drum and Bugle Corps-"

Laura squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself, fighting the dizziness that came over her.

"-First Soprano Trumpet. Matt, gather your things and turn in your uniform. You are stripped of your title of Knight."

The room spun as Mr. Hamon pulled Laura close and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, the gesture protective than affectionate. He pointed at Matt, who stood dumbfounded, mouth gaping open. There was a collective gasp throughout the theater and nothing could be heard besides Laura's desperate gasps for air, trying to shove away the dizziness that threatened to take this moment away from her. She saw Matt look to Mr. Deleyney, who was still on the stage, for confirmation of this fact, to see if Mr. Hamon was bluffing. Mr. Deleyney held his breath and, after several tense seconds, nodded his head, pointing toward the door.

Matt was no longer a Knight.

He walked toward Laura and Mr. Hamon as though moving through water, slowly approaching. She could feel Mr. Hamon's grip tighten on her shoulder as he pulled her closer still, blocking her with most of his body as he took a step forward, protecting her from any wrath Matt still had in him.

"I apologize and ask for my title back."

"Apology noted and dismissed. Request denied. You are now to leave the premises and fail to report to practice. Leave."

Matt narrowed his eyes and took one step forward, a challenge. Mr. Hamon didn't bat an eye.

"Now."

With that, he stomped up the stairs to the theater doors, which he then slammed behind him. The auditorium was silent. No one, not even the members who had been with The Knights since they reached the audition age, had seen a section leader dismissed, and the directors themselves had never dismissed a member like that. Never. Mr. Hamon, realizing his protective grip on Laura was unnecessary now that the threat was gone, let Laura go and she felt herself falling toward the carpet. Jon caught her shoulder and Laura heard her wrist snap under her weight as she caught herself. There was a sharp pain and then nothing but numbness. The marching director made his way down to the stage and whispered a few short words in the music director's ear, Mr. Deleyney nodding.

"This is enough," Mr. Hamon said, his voice strong and commanding, yet quiet, a quiet that was unsettling. "If this continues, there will be no more Knights. Future generations of marchers will not have The Knights to turn to because we're not going to be here. If we're not here because we couldn't work together or because the cooperation abandons us, I don't know yet. What is it going to be, though? Are we going to fall apart, get kicked out, or rise above all the issues and come back for a first place win? Because of this letter," Mr. Hamon showed the letter one more time, picking it up from the stage floor where he had dropped it while jumping on top of the seats, "We are being watched. The Knights is working under growing suspicion. Now, they either find out we have a girl in the corps and kick us out of the association for breaking rules, or we lose our funding and have to disband because of lack of money. One is permanent, one is temporary. Which is it going to be?"

"Neither," said Jon, "Because they are not going to find out. We're going to stick together."

Jon's mellow voice, though strained, echoed through the theater, causing Mr. Deleyney to smile.

"That was the answer we were looking for," Mr. Deleyney said, his smile growing wide. "That was it."

"Now, I'm appointing a new section leader for the trumpets. Second Soprano, you will take control of the trumpets," Mr. Hamon announced, much to Laura's surprize.

A young man stood up to scattered applause, shaking his head.

"No, Mr. Hamon, I'm not going to be a section leader. I choose to remain Second Soprano."

Whispers sprung up among the corps; no one had ever turned down a leadership position, either, in all the corps member's memories. The directors raised their eyebrows.

"Is that what you want?" the music director asked, accepting the young man's choice. Second Soprano nodded and sat down, a smile on his face.

"Third Soprano, please stand," Mr. Hamon said, "And please tell me you're accepting."

Third Soprano stood up, but declined the new position, smiling at Second Soprano and then to Jon. With Matt gone and the two previous musicians declining, Jon was next to be section leader.

"Fourth Soprano, will you stand up and accept the position of Section Leader?"

Jon shook his head, causing Tyler to groan and put his head in his hand, walking to the back of the stage.

"I won't stand up and leave Laura on the ground," Jon said, "But I will accept the position of Section Leader. I thank the corps for this honor and hope for the trumpet's blessing."

These were traditional words in The Knights when accepting any sort of power position, substituting the appropriate section name. The trumpet players that had cheered Matt's dismissal clapped and hollered, one of them helping Jon lift Laura to her feet. Laura could feel the ground under her feet move and she breathed slowly, knowing that she was going to have to stand up on her own or be considered weak by the other members, friend of a section leader or not. Laura pushed herself away and smiled at Jon, Jon smiling back. She massaged her wrist as Jon went down to the stage and shook the Head Major's hand, Jake clapping Jon on the back.

"Now that we have who wrote the letter taken care of-"

"What do you mean we have that taken care of?" Andrew asked, who had been forgotten. "We never figured that out."

"Matt wrote it and we dismissed him," Mr. Hamon said. "You have a problem with that?'

"Yeah," Andrew answered, "Because he didn't write it. I did."

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_I love doing that... I'm sorry about the little mini-cliffhanger there, but I figured I needed to stop here before the chapter became too long winded and boring. Thanks so much for reading and I've had so much fun so far writing this! I didn't even know I was going to dismiss Matt until I wrote it! I just throw curves in there I never thought about! Thanks for reading and tell me what you think! Thanks!_


	27. Ruining Fifth Trumpet's Heart

_Hello, everyone! I apologize for the long delay. I know I told some of you that I would be updating that night, or the next day, a few days ago; I just have to say I'm sorry! This has been one of the busiest weeks I've had in a while, but I've been thinking about Hearts Of Glass throughout the week, so I haven't forgotten it and here is another chapter. I also apologize for leaving everyone on a cliffhanger; I assumed I would have the next chapter up in a day or two after that, so I didn't mean to leave you hanging for that long! Anyway, you've waited this long for the next chapter, and I'm not going to leave you_ _hanging more than you have to._

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**Ruining Fifth Trumpet's Heart**

"You wrote the letter?" Mr. Deleyney asked quietly, his voice rising to a furious hiss as Andrew nodded. "You wrote that letter?"

"Not all by myself," Andrew said, a frown on his face, fingers tapping on his pant leg. "Matt helped. Now that Matt's gone and this is all taken care of, we can drop the subject."

"No, we can't drop the subject, First Percussionist," Mr. Hamon said, eyes shining in the light from the stage. "What makes you think we can just go back to regular practice after this? What makes you think we can go on like nothing happened?"

"Because nothing happened," Andrew answered, "Nothing happened! It's done with. It's taken care of. We can move on and you can stop talking to me."

The theater was hushed as Andrew challenged Mr. Hamon for the second time that night. Usually, if a corps member were to say something like that to the marching director on a good night, he had a half an hour's work of laps and push ups ahead of him. Now, no one knew if Andrew would be the first fatality at Mr. Hamon's hands.

Andrew was lifted out of his chair by the arm and Tyler pulled him into the aisle, Andrew sneering.

"What are you going to do to me? Make me do more push ups? Scary."

"I should give you the same treatment I gave Matt and kick you out of the corps! You won't be so lucky."

After a silent exchange between the musical director and the marching director, Andrew was pulled out of the room and the door slammed behind them. Mr. Deleyney stood on the stage with the drum majors and the color guard instructor, Jon standing near the back of the stage in the shadows. Paul was the first to break the silence.

"Color guard, you're dismissed for the evening. See you tomorrow."

The color guard, who had been sitting in the very back of the theater, filed out as fast as they could, making as little noise as possible. Paul, as he walked by, put a hand on Thomas' shoulder.

"Sorry," he whispered before nodding goodbye to Mr. Deleyney and walking off the stage, disappearing after his color guard. Thomas, confused, furrowed his brows and wanted to ask Paul what he meant, but couldn't; the corps was starting to get out of hand, demanding that they be able to leave as well. Mr. Deleyney restored order and addressed the corps for the last time that night.

"I understand if some of you don't come back tomorrow. For those who still want to be a Knight, I will see you at practice at six sharp. Fall out."

Thomas, after watching the corps members leave the theater, marched to Mr. Deleyney's side and demanded to know what was going on and why Paul had apologized to him.

"Jake, come here," Mr. Deleyney called, the drum major obeying. "We have a few things to talk about and a few apologies to make. Jon, you too. Get Laura."

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Laura sat in her chair, rubbing her left wrist. The numbness was wearing away, leaving a shooting pain whenever she moved her hand. The rest of the corps members were gone and Laura tried to remember all that had happened that night. Instead of practicing, a letter was discovered that could have destroyed the corps, Matt was dismissed, Jon was made Trumpet Section Leader, and Andrew was carted away by Mr. Hamon, the percussionist's fate uncertain at the moment. She would never have believed it if someone had told her it was going to happen. Jon was on the stage at the moment, talking with Mr. Deleyney. Suddenly, she heard her name and saw Jon beckon to her, asking her to come down to the stage.

Her knees were a little weak as she walked down the steps, the jolting motion aggravating her wrist. Stepping onto the stage, Jon reached out and gathered her close, an arm around her shoulder. Laura appreciated the gesture, but winced in pain as her wrist bumped against his arm. Thomas' eyes became even more icy, if possible, and Jon simply ignored the drum major, pulling Laura closer. Mr. Deleyney looked tired in the stage lights, every line in his face visible, his eyes restless.

"I owe some apologies, here," the music director said, sighing. "I first have to apologize to Jake, for dragging him into this mess."

"I'm here for that," Jake answered, smiling. "Drag me in deeper any time you need to."

"Then, I need to apologize to Jon. I'm sure Mr. Hamon would agree with me on this, too." Mr. Deleyney turned to Jon. "You were one of the few people we thought wrote the letter. You were not very high on the list, but you were still in consideration. When we have confirmation from Mr. Hamon that Andrew and Matt really wrote the letter, I can give you a formal apology from all three of the instructors, if you want."

"No, I don't need you to go that far," Jon answered, his face falling a little. "This is fine. Can I ask, though, why I was a suspect?"

"Because of Laura," Mr. Deleyney answered, "We thought that you might turn us in so she wouldn't get hurt any more than she has already. I know you love being a Knight, but I also know that some things come higher on your list of priorities."

Jon smiled smugly and looked to Thomas, who grimaced. Mr. Deleyney turned to Thomas and cleared his throat and tried to find the right words to address the assistant drum major.

"Thomas, we all knew that you love being a Knight and that you are an amazing major, but we suspected you because of what you might do if The Knights were to become 'tainted.' You put up such a fight about Laura joining the corps that we suspected you."

"That doesn't explain much," Thomas answered, cold eyes turning on Jake.

"Listen, man," Jake said, cautious, "We had to keep you in the dark for a little while until we established you didn't write the letter. None of us wanted to do that, and I knew that you wouldn't have a cold enough heart to turn the corps in, but we were just being careful. We didn't know if you would get so sick of The Knights that you would just end our lies right there and then in that letter. We don't have to worry, right?"

Jake joked around and patted Thomas on the back, but Thomas didn't smile, or even move from where he put himself at attention. Laura stared at him and could see that he was fighting with the words that wanted to come out of his mouth and the words that should come out of his mouth. In the end, Thomas chose the words that settled the deal and ended the fight: he accepted the apology. But there was no warmth in his voice.

"Now that we have that all taken care of," Mr. Deleyney said, "We're going to teach Jon how to play the Piccolo Trumpet and give him the solo."

"There isn't a solo," Jon said, confused. Laura was equally confused, but was fighting to keep nausea under control as she tried to move her wrist back and forth. "There was never a solo."

"Well, Mr. Hamon, the color guard instructor, and myself decided to change the repertoire for this season. We didn't feel like it was coming together like it should. The movements we learned so far shouldn't change much, but the songs are going to be different."

"When was this decided?" Thomas asked sarcastically, the sarcasm lost on everyone but Laura.

"Jake and I talked about it the other day with the other two instructors," Mr. Deleyney mentioned, giving Laura an odd look as she tried to keep the tears of pain back as she poked her wrist with her fingers. "We couldn't tell you until now, just in case something were to leak out into the corps. We're making the official announcement tomorrow at practice."

Thomas was so livid in his anger that there were no words to be spoken. The ice wall was melting second by second as the flame of fury grew. Then, after a deep breath, Thomas nodded his head and bit his tongue.

"And I owe Laura an apology, too," Mr. Deleyney said, a smile on his face, "For putting her through all of this. I know Mr. Hamon was just trying to make a point, but I'll make a new rule declaring that no one is allowed to lay a hand on Fifth Soprano without my permission."

Joking, Jake reached over to grab Laura's arm. None of them expected the screech of pain. Laura could hardly see, the pain was so bad, and Jake quickly let go. Jon jumped in front of Jake and the drum major tried to stammer out he had done nothing to hurt her, frantically trying to apologize to Laura as she swooned on the spot. Trying to keep her feet, Laura bowed her head and sucked in deep breaths of air, staring at the ground. Mr. Deleyney pulled Jon away from Jake, the drum major unable to convince Jon he hadn't hurt her, and Laura fell to her knees, the pain increasing with every second that went by, not knowing what was happening. Thomas knelt as Laura's side, his hand on her shoulder in a moment of concern, as she shook uncontrollably.

"Mr. Deleyney," Laura said hesitantly, "My wrist... My wrist hurts."

"We haven't figured that out by now," Thomas muttered sarcastically as he moved away from Laura, Mr. Deleyney dropping down in front of Laura to look at her wrist. Touching it, the instructor could feel the heat coming off it, the swelling starting. It was already turning an unusual shade of purple.

"You've probably broken your wrist," Mr. Deleyney said, "When Mr. Hamon let you go, you fell and hit your wrist. We need to get you to the doctor. Laura, can you walk?"

"There is nothing wrong with your legs," Thomas said to Laura as Jon helped her stand and she swayed. "Your wrist hurts and you're going to the doctor. You can at least walk."

Jon shot Thomas a dark look as he supported Laura as she stumbled up the steps, Mr. Deleyney behind them.

"Jake, we're going to the local emergency room. We'll contact her parents on the way there. If you want to shut the place down and meet us there, that would be great. We're going to take my car. Let Mr. Hamon know, if you can find him, what the situation is."

Mr. Deleyney tossed his keys to Jake after he took his car keys off the lanyard. Jake caught the keys and nodded, calling after them.

"Hang in there, Laura! You'll be alright!"

After they left the theater, Jake turned to face Thomas, who was frowning at the floor.

"What the hell is up with you, man? Laura's hurt and you can do nothing but exercise that malevolent tongue of yours?"

"Where did you read that big word, Jake?" Thomas asked. "Do you know what it means?"

"I'm not an idiot, Thomas, but you're acting like one! You aren't concerned about Laura at all, are you? All you're concerned about is the fact we suspected you for trying to drive the corps into the ground!"

"I'm scared for Laura and this corps doesn't need anymore help driving itself into the ground!" Thomas answered, unable to hold the words back any longer. Jake, who had seen Thomas like this only one other time, the time he had been in the hospital himself for stitches following a fight, let the words flow over him before answering back.

"You're scared for Laura, and yet you treat her like she's a wimp. She's a woman! You're a Knight! You need to be chivalrous and help her out by not being such a jerk! She was in true pain there, with a swelled wrist, and you tell her she should suck it up and get moving?"

"She's been hurt so many times already," Thomas retorted. "This corps isn't the place for her! She's bloodied her nose, gotten in a brawl involving all the guys of the corps, and now she probably has a broken wrist! Sooner or later, she's going to end up like Robert!"

The name rang in the theater, leaving nothing but two drum majors facing one another, both enraptured with the other's fury. Jake finally spoke.  
"She's not going to end up like Robert, if that's what you're afraid of, because Robert was an idiot. Robert disobeyed orders and ran off during tour. Afraid of being punished, he tried to sneak back and someone killed him. May he rest in peace, but I mean it when I say Robert was an idiot. I have an extra year of experience over you, and even though it's just a year, I know more than you do about this corps. And this corps is not going to let Laura make that same mistake. We are going to be watching her like a hawk. Plus, Laura isn't as stupid as to run away."

"Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"No, Thomas, I'm saying the only way she is going to leave us is if we wound her emotionally any more than we have already. Physically, she might be able to withstand anything that hurts her in the end, but we can kill her emotionally with the problems! And you are part of the problems!"

"What problem specifically?"

"She loves you. Thomas, she loves you and you can't even see it. You're blind. You can march a straight line, but you're blind. Remember that love unreturned can ruin a person's heart. Don't ruin her, Thomas, because you could kill her in the end."

Thomas was taken aback by Jake's words; he had never heard Jake say anything like that in his entire time knowing him. Jake walked off the stage, keys jingling in his hand.

"I'm going to find Mr. Hamon and tell him what's going on. I'll be back to lock the theater after you turn off all the stage lights. Meet you at the hospital."

Thomas never flinched the entire time Jake talked, running the words over and over again in his head about hurting Laura emotionally.

"Did you hear me, Thomas?"

The assistant major nodded, still at a stiff field rest, feet shoulder length apart, arms crossed, head bowed.

"I had better see you at the hospital."

With that, Jake left the theater, leaving Thomas with nothing but the stage lights for company.

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_I don't think I was quite on the ball with this chapter, but I'm where I need to be to continue at this point. I have the next chapter all figured out (don't worry, Laura isn't hurt too bad and I'll explain why she was in so much pain) and posted earlier than this chapter was! Thanks again and I apologize like Mr. Deleyney for my tardiness! Please tell me what you think; reviews give me great ideas!_


	28. Never Leave Problems For Tomorrow

_Agh! I've been thinking about this story the past few days, running it through my head and ending up with tons of different ideas on what to do next. My own school is working on the field show for Homecoming (on Friday) and we have had the drill for exactly one week, the music for about two weeks. You can imagine how stressful that has been! We had a three and an half hour practice last night and it was insane! Look for the Senior Year of For The Love Of Music for more details on how hell-ish it really was! (Not written yet, for you fans... Sorry, not trying to promote my own stories. vv) I felt a lot like Laura, only I'm a drum major at the moment instead of Fifth Soprano Trumpet. Poor girl... So, I've come up with a lot of great things for the next few chapters! (That and I saw my favorite episode of my favorite anime tonight, so I'm in a poetic sort of mood...)_

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****Never Leave Problems For Tomorrow**

Laura sat in the emergency room with her parents at her side, Jon sitting silently a few seats away, looking rejected. Thomas stood in one corner of the room, in his usual drum-major-at-rest position, Jake at his side but not nearly as stiff and cold as his assistant. Mr. Deleyney and Mr. Hamon sat together across the room from Laura and her parents, Mr. Hamon on the phone with Paul.

"Laura's in the emergency room-"

There were scratches and snippets of Paul's voice over the cellphone before Mr. Hamon continued.

"She just fell, you know. You were there, why am I explaining it to you? I called to ask if you were going to meet us here or not. No, the doctor hasn't seen her yet, so we don't- Paul, just get over here."

"Suave," Jake said, walking over and sitting next to the marching director. "You have great people skills."

Mr. Deleyney chuckled slightly as Peter told Jake to give him twenty right there in the emergency room. Jake dropped and began the twenty push ups with a smile on his face. Laura's parents looked slightly shocked and her father asked if Laura had to do push ups. Laura exchanged a quick look with Mr. Deleyney before answering no, she hardly did any, that they were only for members who misbehaved. The doctor walked into the room, holding Laura's medical chart.

"Well, Miss-"

The doctor stopped when he caught sight of Jake finishing his last push up, the drum major standing up and nodding his head in salutation before resuming his seat beside the marching director, Mr. Hamon getting up and moving several seats away.

"If you could follow me, we'll get your x-rays taken care of and take a look at that wrist."

Laura followed the doctor out of the room, leaving her parents alone with the Knights and their instructors. There were several moments of odd silence before Laura's father spoke up.

"How did my daughter receive this injury?"

"She fell-" Mr. Deleyney said, looking over to Mr. Hamon, who jumped in to finish the sentence.

"On the steps. Laura fell on the steps. The carpet might have been loose or Laura might have just tripped over her own feet."

The drum majors exchanged looks while Jon raised his eyebrows in surprise. Mr. Hamon shot them all a warning glance as Mr. Deleyney tried to engage Laura's parents in conversation.

"You know, Laura is an amazing trumpet player and a talented marcher. Can you tell me more about her musical experience?"

"Why does that matter to you?" Laura's father said, narrowing his eyes. Laura's mother playfully whacked him on the shoulder before speaking.

"Oh, come on, now. I'm sure- Um, what did you say your name was again?"

"I apologize," Mr. Deleyney said, getting up from his chair hurriedly and shaking Laura's father's hand. "My name is Tyler Deleyney and I'm the musical instructor for The Knights Drum And Bugle Corps. This man over here is Mr. Peter Hamon, our marching instructor, and our color guard instructor, Paul, should be arriving shortly."

"I'm Jake, the Head Drum Major, and this is Thomas, the Assistant Drum Major," Jake said, walking to Laura's mother and taking her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you." Thomas nodded stiffly from his corner and turned away, beginning to pace the floor.

"And who might you be?" Laura's mother asked, turning to Jon, flattered by the attention.

"I'm Jon and one of Laura's best friends in the corps," Jon said shaking hands with both Laura's father and mother.

"Best friend, huh?" Laura's mother said with a smirk. "So I won't be having you over for dinner some night?"

Thomas held his breath and bit his lip as Jon blushed a little and didn't respond. Mr. Hamon cleared his throat pointedly and Mr. Deleyney continued on.

"As I asked before, can you tell me more about Laura and her musical past? I would like to know where her ambition and talent comes from."

"She loved marching band ever since she saw her first parade," Laura's mother said, a smile on her face. "Laura started playing the flute and trumpet and a bunch of other instruments the moment she could join the junior high band and then developed a love for marching."

"We tried to talk her out of it," Laura's father said, "But nothing could stop her. In the end, we just gave up. We didn't think it would be a good thing for her to be working so hard and using so much energy. She wouldn't stop until she was the drum thingy, the drum major, I think."

Jake smiled and nodded that it was correct, Laura's mother continuing the story.

"Then the director quit the year she finally had what she wanted. After he quit, the school discontinued the marching band. They sold most of the uniforms, stashed the trophies away, and repainted the marching trailer for the football team to use. Laura wouldn't talk to us for days after the night the director left."

"Why didn't she talk to you?" Jon asked, his voice soft.

"She was upset, I guess. I don't know," Laura's mother said, the father nodding in agreement. "We just left her alone until she felt better about it. She forgot about marching band and the whole idea of running around in a uniform until she saw this corps at a concert."

"The Knights are happy to have Laura as a member," Mr. Deleyney said, smiling.

"How many other women are in the corps?"

Silence permeated every corner of the room, no one daring to answer the question. Finally, after the suspicious looks from Laura's father couldn't get any worse, Jake stood up and answered.

"To tell you the truth, Laura was the only woman to audition this year, so she is the only female member of the corps. This is a first for The Knights."

There was a collective sigh from the corps members; Jake worded it just right that he wasn't exactly telling a lie, but he wasn't telling the whole truth. Mr. Hamon couldn't help but wonder why Jake had decided to answer, though; usually, the young man was honest to a point where it hurt and never lied to a lady while wearing his whistle. That was expected from Thomas. Mr. Hamon shook his head and walked over to the vending machine across the room as conversation continued.

"Is Laura being treated well?"

"Yes, ma'am, she is," Jon said, "We're all watching out for her, on and off the field."

"Like brothers?" asked the father suspiciously.

"Like protective, older brothers," Jon answered, trying to ignore the look Laura's mother was giving him.

"Well, I hope you're not all acting like brothers," Laura's mother said, pretending to find something inside her purse. "Laura doesn't have a boyfriend yet and it would be nice for her to be on someone's arm for Prom."

Mr. Hamon nearly spit the soda out as he heard those words and Thomas frowned slightly, stopping his pacing. Laura's mother looked up, shocked she had said that out loud.

"Um, although Laura is a valued member of the corps, we try and have a strict policy on relationships inside the corps. Relationships usually don't work and we discourage them whenever possible. Spring is still far off and I'm sure Laura will, um, will..."

Laura's father rolled his eyes and Laura's mother blushed a furious red as Mr. Deleyney trailed off. Mr. Hamon, hearing Tyler lie between his teeth, smiled and took another drink of his soda. All that was a lie; the corps had never had to deal with relationships and policy issues because Laura was the first female member!

"She's back," the doctor said from the doorway, Laura walking into the room. "She sprained her wrist. It was almost a break, but not quite. She pinched some nerves, that's why it hurt her so badly, and I fitted a plastic cast to her. Laura needs to keep the cast on at all times if she's moving, but can take it off when she's resting; that way, it's not so itchy and annoying, but it's still a functional cast to heal her wrist."

"What about marching?" Mr. Hamon asked, screwing the top back on his soda bottle and taking a look at the cast Laura now wore around her left wrist. It was plastic with numerous clips that, when unclipped, opened the cast like a book.

"She can march, but no push ups," the doctor said, looking over at Jake pointedly. "It should take six weeks to heal, so Laura can come back around Christmas for a check up on her wrist. Who is the music guy here?"

"I'm assuming you mean musical director," Mr. Hamon said as Mr. Deleyney stood and shook the doctor's hand.

"Whatever you are," the doctor said, addressing Mr. Deleyney, "You need to know that Laura can't use her wrist for the next few weeks. That means no exertion of any sort. If she can play the trumpet with just her right hand, great, but if she can't..."

"No trumpet," Mr. Deleyney nodded his head, agreeing. "I understand. Any pain killers?"

"Yes, here is the prescription copy for your files. Laura should be on them only for the next two weeks until those nerves and ligaments and muscles have time to straighten everything out again and stop pinching and pulling."

Mr. Deleyney accepted the slip of paper and slid it into his pocket, saying goodnight to the doctor along with everyone else, everyone standing up and gathering their things. It was nearly midnight; definitely time to go home.

"Well, Laura, I hope you feel better by tomorrow night's practice so we can see you there!" Jake said, patting Laura on the back. Laura tried to move her wrist so she could hug him back, but couldn't, settling for another pat.

"I'm getting out of here," Mr. Hamon said, nodding goodbye to Laura's parents before getting to Laura herself. "I'll see you tomorrow at practice, Knight." Mr. Hamon's cell phone rang and he answered it, nodding his head yes as Jake asked if he could get a ride back to the school to get his car.

"Paul, you're at the wrong hospital. Don't bother anymore, it's taken care of," the marching director said, walking away into the parking lot.

"I apologize for any inconvenience this might have caused you," Mr. Deleyney said, shaking hands once more with Laura's parents. "I'm sorry the accident ever happened. I'm also sorry for our marching director, but his attitude normally doesn't brighten anymore than how he acted tonight."

There was a chuckle as Laura's father joked about the boyfriend statement his wife had made, earning him the look no husband wants to see.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Laura. Call me if you need anything at all or if you can't make it, alright?"

Laura nodded to Mr. Deleyney as the director also walked to the parking lot and got into his car. Jon and Thomas were the only people left besides Laura's parents, who told Laura they would be waiting in the car for her, Laura's mother smiling a knowing smile.

"Look, I'm sorry for anything stupid my mother might have said," Laura stated, shaking her head. "I know that look and what it means; she made the boyfriend statement, didn't she?"

"It wasn't a big issue," Jon said, "A little uncomfortable, but no biggie. What matters is that you get well and you get well soon. As your section leader, I'm not going to let you slack!" Jon and Laura laughed together, appreciating the joke while Thomas standing a few feet away, arms crossed. "Hey, Thomas," Jon asked, turning away from Laura for a moment to address the angry drum major, "Are you going to give me a ride back to the school to get my car? I don't know why Jake decided to hitch a ride with Hamon to and from the hospital, but I'm stuck here without you."

"I'll give you a ride as long as you give me a moment alone with Laura," Thomas answered coldly. "Look for the red car with it's doors unlocked in the east parking wing."

As Jon grumbled about Thomas parking so far away, Laura raised her eyebrows. Jon and Thomas hated one another and now they were giving each other rides back to the school! Had she hit her head too hard?

"Don't worry," Thomas said, seeing the look on her face, "I'm giving him a ride back, but I have a blue car in the west parking wing with it's door's locked, so he's going to be looking for a while."

Laura gave a slight laugh, not sure if Thomas was trying to be funny or not. That laugh died away into the chill night air and Laura sighed as Thomas crossed his arms again.

"Thomas, did you want to say something? I've gotta go home and get some sleep; my parents are waiting."

For a moment, Thomas' usual cold demeanor broke and he shuffled his feet, looking at the pavement before taking a deep breath. He took Laura's hand, the one that wasn't in the cast, and kissed it. It was a simple touch to the skin with his lips, but a kiss nonetheless. Laura took in her breath and Thomas looked up at her with his steely eyes and let go of her hand, letting it fall limp to her side.

"Would you like me to walk you to your car?" Thomas asked, ignoring Laura's astonished expression. Silently, unable to find words, Laura shook her head no, not even knowing why she wasn't accepting his offer. Thomas nodded and turned away.

"I will see you on the field tomorrow. Sleep well."

Laura couldn't even stammer out more than a goodbye as she stood on the sidewalk, watching Thomas walk away toward the blue car in the east parking wing. As she walked to her parent's car, her own car still at the school, Laura could hear Jon swearing and the sound of footsteps running toward Thomas' car. Jon got into the vehicle after Thomas unlocked it, Thomas never smiling as he got into the car and started it. He drove past Laura on his way out of the parking lot, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and Jon waved, unrolling his window and shouting to Laura to have a good night and get well.

"So, what did you and the drum major talk about?" her mother asked as Laura got into the backseat of the car.

"Um, our practice tomorrow."

"I see."

On the way home, Laura finally broke into a smile.

* * *

"So, man, what was that about?"

"I'm Thomas, so you can call me by my name, and I needed some time with Laura for a few seconds."

Jon sat in the passenger seat of Thomas' car as Thomas make the ten minute trip back to the school for Jon to pick up his vehicle. Thomas drove as he conducted, calm and in control of everything around him, and it make Jon nervous. This guy didn't thaw out after practice: he always stayed ice cold.

"Well, you could have just asked me to leave you two alone instead of telling me you had a red car instead of a blue car at the opposite end of the parking lot. That was mean, man- I mean, Thomas."

"I did tell you I needed a moment with her and you obliged. What I was worried about was that you were going to listen in on our conversation."

"Oh, come on," Jon snorted, "You really think I would do that?"

Thomas was silent.

"You know, I heard you and Jake yelling in the theater after we took Laura out. I heard what he said about you being cold and nasty to Laura."

"And?"

"And I think Jake was right. You need to relax, not to take everything so seriously! You're going to hurt more than yourself if you keep acting like this."

"Jon, I'm nineteen. I think I can take care of myself."

"I know you can take care of yourself, but that's not the point. It's taking care of the people around you that matters right now. As a drum major, how can you act like this and still be respected?"

"I act like this for respect. If I act like Jake does all the time, do you think anything would get done. Admit to me that Jake gets off topic and off beat and off step."

"I admit it, but he's a good drum major. You could be, too, if you would just relax!"

Thomas exuded such an icy aura that Jon wondered if he should have thought that statement through before he said it. Thomas was furious, but trying to keep himself under control.

"See, man, that's just what I mean. You're angry at me right now, but you're keeping it all in! Yell at me, let it out! Shout! Scream! Do anything besides stay silent."

"Fine. You want me to let it out, I'll let it out. How dare you say anything about being a drum major when you've never been one before. You don't know what it takes! You don't know how hard that is. You don't know anything."

"I know you just stand there, waving your arms around, looking down your nose at everyone!"

Thomas parked the car in the parking lot of the school and unlocked the doors.

"Get out, Jon."

"What, you're kicking me out of your car?"

"No, I'm saying you need to get out so you can get your car, go home, and get some sleep. If I was kicking you out, you would know it."

The two men sat there for several moments, Jon opening the door so the ceiling light came on to shine on their faces. Putting one foot on the ground, Jon could tell Thomas had a crack in his wall of ice, and Thomas knew it as well as Jon did.

"Listen, I'm sorry about the drum major comment. I know you work hard, I was just really angry."

"Just get out."

"I want to apologize-"

"I don't need it."

"But, I-"

"I don't want it."

Jon got out and shut the door, sighing. He really had done nothing to help the situation at all with Thomas and his hard heart. And it was only after he was on his way home that he remembered he never asked the question he originally wanted Thomas to answer:

What had he talked to Laura about?

* * *

Mr. Deleyney fumbled for his cellphone, hoping his messaging system didn't go off before he reached the stop sign so he could dig the phone out of his pocket.

"Tyler speaking."

"Yeah, Deleyney, whatever. Took you long enough to answer?"

"I couldn't get the phone out of my pocket. I'm driving, so keep it short. What do you need?"

"To talk about Andrew."

"Oh, how did that go. In the rush of Laura's wrist and everything, we sort of forgot to talk about it."

"That's why I'm calling, Tyler. You're as sharp as a tack."

"As sharp as your tongue," Tyler muttered. "Peter, what is it?"

"Andrew and Matt wrote the letter together. It was Matt's idea, but Andrew did the mailing. According to our percussionist, he said Matt convinced him it would be a good way to get Laura out of the corps without getting the corps in trouble. Well, because they were so smart, they managed to ruffle head quarter's feathers and succeed in neither of their goals. Andrew flat out cried in front of me, like a naughty kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I was embarrassed."

"He was feeling remorse."

"He didn't want to get kicked out of the corps."

"Anyway, Deleyney, I assigned Andrew to Second Percussionist for the moment, so he is temporarily demoted. He also has to give me one mile before every practice and forty push ups until further notice."

"Walking a mile?"

"Full out sprinting."

"Don't kill him, Peter. We don't need another lawsuit on our hands."

"Killing him was the whole point of the sprinting."

Tyler had to laugh in spite of himself.

"You have a cruel sense of humor. But, I agree to your punishment for Andrew. Run a mile and forty push ups before every practice. I've gotta get off the phone."

"Already?"

"Peter, we don't need to chat like middle school girls. I'll see you tomorrow."

Tyler turned off his phone and sighed, wishing he was already home and in bed.

At least they had most problems solved for this night, a clean slate for more problems that would inevitably rise tomorrow. Tomorrow was another day, though, and who knew what it would bring them?

* * *

_There we are! This is the longest chapter I've ever written for a fan fiction story, I have to admit (although, is this really a fan fiction? This is almost an original story; well, whatever... I don't want to have to think about it right now... I feel like Mr. Deleyney at the moment). I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me what you think! Thanks so much and I'll update soon! I wanted to sort of lengthen this chapter so I can put some time lapse into the beginning of the next chapter so I can move onto Christmas! Thanks again and please leave me a review! Like I always say, reviews give me more ideas to give the readers a better story!_


	29. Jake And Laura

_Wow, thanks for all the great reviews so far, guys! You're such great readers! I look forward to checking my email every day just so I can get some more ideas from reviews I get! I've realized that the characters have almost become real people to some of the readers; they have flaws and strengths just like real people do. I got a review talking about how the characters sometimes act stupid, but they make good points. Just like real people! I love how I'm just the person taking down notes in the life of Laura and Thomas and Jon now instead of writing about them from my mind... That's the mark of a cool story, I think!_

_Anyway, I love reviews that just make me think, that light a fire from a little spark of an idea. Sometimes people will tell me that they are a Thomas/Laura fan or a Jon/Laura fan and I just have to smile because everyone knows she is going to end up with one or the other! I have tons of other stories to update (sorry to all you "Dark Heart, Bright Soul" readers, and the "Pale Words" fans... I haven't updated those stories in weeks and weeks!). But, when I'm on a roll, I'm going to run with it, and I'm on a roll with this story! _

_I try and answer back to as many reviews as possible, so I apologize if I haven't answered you! I'm thankful for all my readers and their thoughts! I tend to babble a little, though, when I answer back, just bouncing ideas off the review, so I apologize to anyone who has sat in their chair for more than a few minutes reading my reply! (Like now, you just want to get to the story, so here I go!) _

_Yes, there has been a time lapse since the last chapter, but not a huge jump._

**

* * *

Jake And Laura**

Snow fell harder and harder to the ground, swirling in great clouds to pound against the sides of the building, nothing but dull light coming in through the glass to light the music annex. Laura leaned her head against the window, sighing. The glass was cold against her skin and she shivered slightly. It was so warm inside the building that she wanted to take off her sweater and just walk around in her tank top, but knew she would probably get sick from it. That and she didn't want to wander around in front of the rest of the corps in just a plain top and jeans. She knew most of them didn't care, but Laura wasn't going to draw any more attention to herself than she already had.

The corps was getting ready for sectionals and there was nothing for Laura to do. She had been off her painkillers for her wrist for several days and there was a dull ache in her wrist. The pinched nerves and stressed ligaments were healing and the pain wasn't nearly as extreme as it had been after she had sprained her wrist, the swelling gone, but the cast was annoying. She had gotten the straps caught on numerous things and hardly took the cast off, even though it was specifically made for her to detach the sides and let her skin breathe once in a while. There was no point in risking hurting her wrist again while taking the cast off and putting it back on and delay her healing time. The more time she spent in the cast, the less time it would take to heal. Laura had tried to play the trumpet with just one hand, but couldn't hold the instrument up and steady it enough to play. Mr. Deleyney had caught her at it the first week after she had hurt herself and told her under no circumstances was she going to play until Christmas break was over and her cast would be taken off. Her fingers couldn't wrap around the trumpet because of her cast, and Laura was afraid to play with the cast off.

She had been listening to Jon learning to play the piccolo trumpet the past weeks. He was an amazing trumpet player and the solo was beautiful. The section itself was thriving under Jon's direction. It was odd to turn around and look for Matt, only to find him missing before you remembered he wasn't there to begin with, but Laura didn't miss him. Nobody but his trumpet and percussion followers missed him, and even they seemed pleased to be let free from Matt's tyrannical attitude. He had been an important part of the corps, but Jon was the perfect replacement. This was going to be Jon's first sectional as a section leader and Laura wondered if she should go and find him and wish him luck. She decided against it and began wondering what her task was for that day.

The past few weeks, Mr. Deleyney and Mr. Hamon had been giving her tasks instead of having her work with the trumpets. Since she couldn't play, there was no point in warming up and working with them. Her latest tasks were photocopying music for the entire corps and organizing drill sets into individual books for ever corps member. It was long, tedious work, but she never complained. She was lucky she wasn't kicked from the corps for the winter season, as what happened with many injured performers in other corps, or so she heard. It was slightly bitter knowing that they wouldn't kick her from the corps for a month or two because she was their only chance for tour funding, but Laura was also thankful for the fact she was needed and was such an important part of the puzzle that was The Knights. If they took her brick out of the structure, the entire project would fall to bits. So, Laura did nothing but paper work and photocopying the new songs and drills.

It was nothing new to veteran members of the corps that the plans changed once the snow fell. It was usually around this time that the directors became bored with their project and decided to build a new corps around the new piece and drills they made. Mr. Deleyney was a composer and arranger and was often found with his laptop, which was full of music software, typing away note after note of the new masterpiece the corps would perform for tour. Collaborating with him was Mr. Hamon, his own laptop equipped with the music files from Mr. Deleyney's compositions and field show software. Mr. Hamon was often heard swearing and beating up on his laptop before Mr. Deleyney stopped him, but he finished sets day after day after day. They already had the first two movements of the program done, drill and music both, and Laura was astounded. As soon as Mr. Deleyney printed out the music in sheet form, ready to play, Laura was to photocopy the music for each corps member, paper punching and arranging everything in individual binders. Mr. Hamon did the same, printing out the drill sheets, Laura making copy after copy and placing the drill in the binders along with the music. Over 130 individual folders later, the program was nearly ready to hand out to the corps members.

Today, they would receive their new show.

The first songs and drills they had been working on were for practice, unbeknown to the younger, less experienced members. The older members knew this was practice, a test for the directors to weed out those who couldn't make the cut after all, and to size up the corps on where they were that season. The jazzy tune and drill were to be filed away for other years, when everyone who would remember the piece was aged out and long gone. The new program was very fitting for The Knights: The Middle Ages. "The Middle Ages" was to consist of several reality and fantasy themes, such as starting on a quest and slaying a dragon. The color guard would represent the perils and beauty The Knights would see on their quest, the marching and guard instructor working together to put together a spell binding show. Laura had fallen in love with the music already, a modern twist on old tales and songs, and Mr. Deleyney promised to make her a CD of the music for her to take home with her.

"What are you thinking about?"

Laura jumped and turned around, nearly whacking her head on the door frame in the process. Jake smiled and threw his hands up.

"Whoa, didn't mean to scare you! Sorry, Laura."

"No problem, no harm done," Laura answered, relived she hadn't hit herself on the metal. There was a large red mark on her forehead from when she had been leaning against the glass and Laura rubbed at it.

"I'm only making it worse, huh?" she asked, pointing to her forehead and laughing. Jake nodded and shook his head.

"I don't care. Here, I'll give myself one, too."

Jake placed his forehead against the glass and Laura followed suit, both of them staring outside at the man across the street hanging Christmas lights. Their breath left white fog on the windows and eventually they couldn't see anymore, no amount of wiping fixing it, leaving fingerprints on the glass instead.

"Do you like the snow, Jake?" Laura asked, "And why aren't you with Mr. Deleyney or Mr. Hamon?"

"Which one do you want me to answer first?" Jake asked with a chuckle. Laura shrugged and Jake smiled.

"Mr. Deleyney and Mr. Hamon almost have the rest of the program complete and I was getting sick of hearing Tyler telling Peter to stop swearing and to treat his laptop nicely."

"Mr. Hamon does swear a lot," Laura commented, trying one last time to wipe the glass.

"Only when he's frustrated. Or thinking hard. Or- Yeah, you're right. He does swear a lot! Tyler, I mean, Mr. Deleyney, keeps him in line in front of the corps. Most of the time, at least. When spring training begins, he has near complete control of the corps and his words can run away from him once in a while."

"So, what is the rest of the program?" Laura asked, "I know the first movement is starting on the quest, then the second one are the dangers The Knights face while getting to the castle. After that is-"

"Slaying the dragon," Jake supplied with a smile. "We slay the dragon, which is going to be the color guard. Have you seen the set for that?"

"The color guard is going to be in the shape of a dragon with green flags and red flags, for the scales and the fire the dragon breathes," Laura said excitedly. "It's just a beautiful set. I hope we don't cut it."

"Naw, we won't cut it. Peter put too much work into it. Like anything, it might change by the end of the season, but we are definitely going to have a fire breathing dragon."

"What is the point of slaying the dragon, though? What's the next movement?"

"I couldn't tell you myself. I think the directors are working on that right now, before sectionals. I should actually go and see that all the sections know where they are going and what to start working on. I know Thomas is going to watch over the trumpets and help Jon out, since Jon's a new section leader and Thomas has done it before. I might work with the baritones; who knows? Just gotta go with the flow and get things done. I saw you out here and just wanted to see how you were doing before I had to run off again. See ya in a bit, girl."

Jake patted Laura on the shoulder and began to walk away, Laura smiling until she remember he had not answered one her questions.

"Hey, Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you like snow?"

Jake stopped walking and turned around, a sad smile on his face.

"No, I don't. I love Christmas, I love the traditions, I even love the gaudy decorations, but I don't like the snow."

"Can I ask you why?" Laura asked tentatively.

"Three reasons. Because Robert liked the snow. Thomas is like the snow. _And_ the fact you can't march in snow without freezing your toes off. I've gotta run, Laura."

Jake smiled wider and disappeared into the theater, where the directors were sitting with their drills and music, leaving behind a confused Laura.

_

* * *

There we are! Wow, this chapter just totally took off. All I needed to do was type the words, but they were all there to begin with! I didn't expect it to end like that, but I think it was better than anything I could have planned out. Free writing is fun! I'll explain to you why Jake doesn't like snow even more and tell you what the next movement of the show is and how the sectional goes in the next few chapters. If I haven't explained anything yet that you would like to know about it, ask me and I'll either tell you why, how, when, or where. Or I'll explain what I plan in the next few chapters if I can't answer the question directly without giving away the next bombshells and exciting parts! I'll answer as best as I can with truth! Heheh..._

_Thanks again for reading and leave me a review, please! Once again, I get so many ideas from readers that I don't know how I'm going to incorporate everything into the story without making it a hundred chapters! Hehe. Thanks for reading, tell me what you think, and I'll update very soon! _


	30. Trumpet Sectional

_Hello, everyone! Sorry about the delay in chapters! I've had so many classes lately and all this drama... Cheerleading really attracts drama and I can't say very much in defense of my marching band at the moment! Hehe. I sure hope The Knights are going to pull it together! I'm probably going to take some time to answer all the questions I've been getting lately in the next few chapters, in the author's note. Starting with this chapter, I will answer a question:_

_#1: How Did I Come Up With The Show Idea: Pyraterose actually gave me the first hint to it and I told her I would give her partial credit. She thought of Medieval Times and I decided on the dragon. All I did was make a list: what do knights do? I'm still working on the show (as Mr. Hamon and Mr. Deleyney are, too, at the moment) so more should develop later._

_So, if you have a question you want answered, just ask me in a review and I'll answer you and maybe answer it in a future author's note! Now, onward to the trumpet sectionals!_

**

* * *

**

**Trumpet Sectional**

Jon smiled broadly as the trumpets walked into the practice room, resting a hand on the the stand in front of him to keep his shaking fingers hidden from his section. He was nervous, but wasn't going to let anyone know he was nervous; a section leader couldn't be nervous, after all. They had to lead. Jon was going to lead his first sectional and it was going to be in front of Thomas, too.

"Does everyone have your folders?" Jon asked, facing the group with a shaky smile. He tried to keep the tremor out of his voice, but it wasn't working that well and Jon cleared his throat before continuing on. "Good, everyone does. Instruments, too?"

A few trumpet players exchanged looks. Those who had supported Matt before Matt was kicked out of the corps snickered and jeered behind their hands. Those who supported Jon gave him reassuring smiles and followed along with Jon's 'lesson plan.' Thomas had not yet arrived; the drum major was talking in the hallway with Jake and Mr. Hamon. Everyone who remembered Thomas as their section leader before he became the assistant major knew this was going to be like trying to mix oil and water if Jon let his nerves get a hold of him when Thomas was in the room. Almost all the trumpet players wanted their first sectional with their new leader to go well with as little drama as possible. Others wanted to perform and get it done with so they could go home. And a few wanted sparks to fly.

"Good, now that we are all here with everything, I'm going to ask what we would like to work on first? Any problem spots for anyone?"

"We only just got our folders at the beginning of the evening," one trumpet player remarked, one of Matt's former followers. "How can we already tell what we're having problems with if we haven't played anything yet?"

"Oh," Jon said softly, realizing he had just made his first mistake.

"Well, number seventeen looks like it could give us trouble," another player said, trying to be helpful. "Why don't we start at the beginning and try and get to that point?"

"Good idea," Jon said, sighing in relief. He raised his trumpet to his lips and concentrated on his music, waiting for a cue to start. Then he realized everyone else was doing the same thing, waiting for their section leader to give the cue. Jon blanked and couldn't remember what came after two. His eyes darted back and forth and he made eye contact with the boy who had just helped him before.

"Your name is Mark, right?" Jon asked the boy, who nodded. "And this is your first year in the corps, too?" The boy nodded again.

"Okay, thanks," Jon said, using that little conversation as an interlude to think of how to count them off. After several seconds, ignoring the confused looks from the rest of the section, Jon started.

"One, two... one two three four!"

Music filled the room and the trumpets, after they approached, reached, and past number seventeen, glanced occasionally to Jon for a cue to stop. Jon kept playing and made it past the first difficult part, leaving some of the trumpet players behind to fret over the measure that had tripped them. Jon noticed, but he didn't know what to do. As he played, he looked up from the music occasionally. It was odd not to have Laura standing next to him, to hear her trumpet in his ear. Eventually, after only Jon was left performing, he stopped and looked around. Some trumpet players had pencils out and were circling and correcting things and writing out notes to themselves on the corners of the paper, but most were just standing there, looking at Jon for what was next.

Jon just looked back, biting his lip. He didn't know where to begin again.

The door whipped open and Thomas made his grand appearance, a frown on the pale face. He looked over Mark's shoulder, the boy who had helped Jon before, and took a careful look at the music before speaking.

"Why is everyone just standing here? Get your pencils out. Those who have them, good job."

"What if we don't?"

"Then you need to get one, don't you?" Thomas answered bluntly. "You're dismissed to get a pencil if you don't have one, but it's not to happen again."

Several players left the room, muttering. Those who had pencils took them out of hiding and began pouring over their music. Those who had already marked their music stood quietly and observed the interaction between old and new section leader.

"What have you done so far?" Thomas asked, rolling his heels as he walked to Jon's side and folded his arms in his usual pose.

"Um, we started at the beginning and kept playing until we fell apart."

"That was it?"

"Pretty much."

"Who was the last one left playing?"

"I was."

Thomas snorted and Jon frowned.

"Why? Is that bad?"

"First tip, Jon," Thomas said, "You don't want to be the last playing. Sit out and listen to the section. Play with them only when they have it right so you can incorporate your own voice into the music."

"But what if I don't have it right before they do?"

"That's one of your jobs as a section leader," came the answer, "You always need to be right. If that takes extra work, then you work before practice, after practice, whenever you have time. But you always need to be one step ahead."

The last of the trumpets who had gone for their pencils had arrived and finished their circling and marking in their folders and everyone was waiting patiently, the room painfully quiet. They looked at Jon, and Jon looked at the ground, shuffling his feet.

"Second tip," Thomas said quietly, "Never look weak."

"I'm not weak," Jon said, surprised Thomas would say such a thing in a room full of people he was supposed to be leading.

"You could have fooled me," Thomas answered. "If you look at the ground, you're waiting for something, just like when we're on the field. Never look at the ground and shuffle your feet at the same time. Be strong."

"But, you're looking at the ground right now!"

"See what I'm doing? Don't look, actually see! I'm waiting for everyone to be done reviewing their music and when I look up to give them the signal, they should be looking at me, waiting for my first cue. This is your default position. Anything else you do, they'll pick up on."

"They're waiting right now..."

"Then get to work."

Thomas walked to the back of the room and leaned against the wall, propping a foot up behind him to steady him as Jon assumed the position Thomas had told him to. The trumpets who remembered Thomas and his teaching style smirked fondly. Those who didn't remember were extremely confused.

"Um, we're going to go back to the beginning once more and try it again until measure seventeen," Jon said, starting to tap his foot on the ground. "Are we ready?"

There were several mumbles and Jon raised the trumpet to his lips and began to count them off as Thomas left the room. As they played, Jon felt a relief and hoped Thomas wouldn't be back. Unfortunately, the third time through the beginning, Thomas returned with a trumpet, notebook, and pencil, taking his place at the back of the room.

* * *

"What do you say we try it again?" Jon asked the group. He was relaxing, getting into the music, feeling what the first movement was all about. It was a broad fanfare, a set up for the rest of the show. The power that was already coming from the trumpets was astonishing for sight reading and Jon felt so proud he was getting a hold of the whole teaching thing.

"We've played it four times now, with all respect," Mark said from behind his music stand. "Maybe we could work on something specific or go on?"

Jon noticed Thomas' pencil flying across the paper on his lap, becoming extremely nervous. What was the drum major writing? Jon had no time to think about it, however, because there were too many eyes looking at him to think about anything but the next step.

"Okay, someone tell me one good thing they have heard so far and one not so good thing?" Jon asked, remembering something his junior high band teacher used to do with the class. "Anything?"

No one said a single word. Jon could tell Mark was trying to find something, anything at all, to support Jon's questions, but was failing at it, just like Jon was failing at being a section leader. Jon glanced around the room; there was no clock.

"Does anyone know what time we get out of here?" Jon asked, shrugging.

"At nine," Mark answered, never making eye contact with Jon.

"What time is it now? Anyone have a watch?"

"It's eight," one of Matt's supporters replied, hardly able to keep the glee out of his voice. Jon was fighting to keep his head above water and was failing miserably.

"If Thomas-"

"The assistant drum major, you mean?" another of Matt's supporters supplied.

"Yes, if the assistant drum major had anything he would like to add to the sectional, that would be helpful."

"You need all the help you can get," one trumpet player muttered to another, loud enough to reach Jon's ears. Jon blushed and tried to make eye contact with Thomas, who was still standing and writing in his notebook. Thomas ignored Jon just long enough to establish the fact he _could_ ignore Jon before setting his notebook and pencil on the floor and walking to the front of the room.

"I do have something I would like to add," Thomas said, his authoritative voice snapping everyone to attention. "If you could go and stand where I was standing in the back of the room, I can show you and the rest of the trumpets a few things, _section leader."_

The last two words Thomas said in regards to Jon were just bitter enough to leave a bad feeling in Jon's stomach. The section leader was being told to stand in the back of the room and watch the drum major teach, like a little boy who didn't understand anything. Jon tried to keep the anger from rising up and he only smiled to the rest of the section as he made the trip to the back of the room, every foot step taking twice as long as normal to bring him to where he needed to be. Looking at the front of the room, he could see Thomas looking at the ground, arms crossed, holding his extraordinarily bright silver trumpet against his upper arm. The section paid instant attention to Thomas the moment the drum major looked up and uncrossed his arms, ready to begin.

"Although we are nearly halfway through the sectional," Thomas said in a cold voice, "We are going to warm up and tune."

Jon felt his heart sink. He had forgotten about warming up. The idea of tuning completely slipped his mind. And there was Thomas, standing where Jon had just been, doing everything Jon had not done to make the section better. Jon brought his trumpet to his lips and tried to play the tuning note, but couldn't because he was shaking so hard, trying to keep the shreds of his dignity by holding back the tears of disappointment.

_

* * *

There we are! Poor Jon! Thomas shouldn't have been so tough on him, but Thomas did have a few good points. I can't believe Jon forgot to warm the section up! Oh, well, I probably would have forgotten, too..._

_Thanks so much for reading and please tell me what you think in the form of a review! (I am currently going through the story and looking for any mistakes, so I'm going to be busy with this story the next few days... I might get a chapter out again before Friday night... who knows!) Thanks again!_


	31. Nothing Can Change The Past

_Bonjour, everyone! It's been one of those weeks so far, so I thought I would wind down with a new chapter. There is a fly buzzing around and I just can't seem to get a hold of him to make him stop bothering me! Gah! I'm the type of person who gets frustrated easily, though, and I don't like killing flies, anyway. I usually let them outside once I've caught them. (Why am I talking about flies?) Time for another question answered:_

_#2: Why Was Thomas Being So Mean In Chapter 30: I'll explain more as the story develops, but I can say that Thomas is a little reluctant to let go of his old position so easily, and it was a bit of a pay back for Jon opening his big mouth on the car ride home from the hospital._

_Here is another chapter. I have about six things I want to write about to tell the reader, but if I do that all right now, in this chapter, then I won't have much of a story to continue on with, huh? Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews and questions and ideas on the story. I just love hearing from my readers for the simple sake of hearing what they have to say. I write for me, yeah, but everyone else gets something out of it, too. Here we go!_

**

* * *

Nothing Can Change The Past**

"Listen up, Knights," Mr. Deleyney said, addressing the crowd in the annex. "Come on, listen!"

The first few rows of boys stopped talking, but everyone in the back still muttered, causing Mr. Hamon to roll his eyes and whistle for attention, the shrill sound making Laura want to clap her hands over her ears. Jon laid a hand on her shoulder as Laura cringed and she smiled at him as soon as the boys in the back row stopped talking, letting Mr. Deleyney speak.

"Good," the music instructor said, "Thank you, Mr. Hamon."

Mr. Hamon shrugged and took his spot next to Mr. Deleyney, who was standing on the lid of a plastic container full of plumes.

"Now, we're not meeting in the theater for three reasons: One, the college is using the auditorium today for a lecture. Two, I'm sick of using the theater to talk to everyone because it's only been needed to address problems the past few months, and three, we won't need to be in there long anyway because we need to get ready for the concert coming up. All you veterans, you know what that means."

Laura looked around, confused. The older members smiled and exchanged looks before pretending nothing had happened and Mr. Deleyney had not said anything at all. Jon shrugged when Laura asked Mr. Hamon meant.

"I don't know, Laura. It could just be a concert," Jon answered, confused himself. Usually, the announcement of a concert did not receive the attention the older members were giving it. Laura never remembered her band giving each other those sort of looks at the mention of a concert, except when something particularly funny or embarrassing had happened at the previous concert.

"So, I have a few announcements," Mr. Deleyney continued, the chatter dying down quickly so Mr. Hamon wouldn't have to call them back to order again. "We are wearing our uniforms at this concert, so anyone who does not have a plume yet needs to get one. First year members, make sure you know how to put on your uniform! As stupid as that sounds, you can't believe how many first year Knights don't know how to put on the proper parts of their uniform. This is a formal concert and we are going to sitting down on a stage, so you don't need to worry about drill."

"Where is the concert?" a baritone player called from the back row.

"Here at the college, in the auditorium. We are going to perform the first two movements of the show, partly because the last movements are not quite finished yet," Mr. Deleyney answered. "Second announcement, I want all section leaders who are not in their first year of Knighthood to meet with the drum majors after rehearsal tonight. Third announcement, we are going to play a game."

"Snowball fight?"

"Tag?"

"Hide and Seek?"

The suggestions from the back raised a few eyebrows and caused a few laughs. Mr. Deleyney, who was starting to loose the few inches of height he had gained by stepping on the lid of the plastic box, chuckled and nodded his head, to everyone's surprise. The lid on the plastic box bent even further and there was the quiet sound of latches locking and unlocking, unnoticed as Mr. Deleyney explained.

"Starting next week, because we have worked so hard and have had so much drama this fall, we are going to start putting away one day a week to relax. Those who want to can go outside and play in the snow. Those who don't want to go outside can stay in here and just- What are the words you young people use to get together?"

"Hang out?" Jake supplied, standing next to Mr. Hamon in the front of the annex.

"That's the word," Mr. Deleyney said triumphantly, smiling. "I know we start on the season long before most other corps do, but winter is really a quiet part of the season for us. The other corps work very hard in winter to catch up on all that we take care of in the fall. We can't do drill in the facility we are using now; the college just doesn't have an indoor area big enough for the corps to practice sets with, so we take care of all that in the spring. Next week Monday, what game would the corps like to play?"

"Snowball fight!"

"Tag!"

"Hide and Seek!"

The entire corps laughed, except Andrew. Andrew seemed very unhappy with Mr. Deleyney's announcement and started to mutter under his breath in no one in particular. Mr. Hamon saw him and frowned.

"Second Percussionist," Mr. Hamon said, using Andrew's demoted title, "Do you have anything you would like to say?"

"Yeah," Andrew said defiantly, "The whole idea is stupid. Why should we act like idiotic little kids when we need to practice the new drill?"

"Andrew, this isn't your first year in the corps. This is your fourth, correct?"

"What does that matter?"

Mr. Deleyney shook his head in disgust as the entire corps started to whisper among themselves, several members shooting Andrew dirty looks. Laura heard the name "Robert" spoken all around her and Jon bit his lip.

"I hoped we wouldn't have to go through this," Mr. Deleyney said, "But it looks like it's unavoidable now. I hoped we could just have untainted fun this winter. Anyone who doesn't want to hear this, you are dismissed for a few minutes."

More than a handful of members left, including Jake, to Laura's surprise, heading down the hallway to the rest room and water fountains, silent with bowed heads.

"Before Robert's death, we used to do this," Mr. Deleyney said, sighing, "And we stopped after Robert died. We decided that it wasn't in the corps best interest and Mr. Hamon and myself drilled the corps all fall, all winter, all spring. We almost skipped the concert, and it wasn't a very successful concert as it was. Because Mr. Hamon and I decided to change tradition, we burned the corps out when it came time for spring camp and the actual tour. We took third place, which has never happened before. We were just burnt out because we had no fun to break the monotony of practice year round. There were several members who considered quitting and one or two actually did quit. This year, in honor of Robert, we are going to bring back the tradition of the winter games. They were one of his favorite things the corps did and we are going to continue on with that."

"But you're insulting him by bringing them back!" Andrew yelled at Mr. Deleyney. "You're forgetting about him and what he would have wanted!"

"We were insulting him by pretending to forget he existed as a member of this corps," Mr. Hamon said coldly. "We didn't do the winter games and we insulted Robert's memory."

"How do you know you're right?" Andrew asked bitterly.

"How do you know I'm wrong?" Mr. Hamon asked. "I've talked to those who knew Robert best and we decided it was for the better."

"Robert wouldn't have-"

"Andrew, why do you need to insult us by pretending you care?"

Laura's mouth dropped open as Jake walked up to Andrew and looked him straight in the eye.

"I was in the hall with everyone else who was and still are loyal to Robert and I happen to hear your voice, putting up a fuss. You never liked the winter games, but you don't need to hide behind the excuse that you care what Robert would have thought. It's insulting to everyone who hears you."

This was very uncharacteristic for Jake, and Thomas, who had never looked up from his typical field-rest position before now, unfolded his arms and walked behind Jake, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Jake, leave him alone," Thomas said simply, then said even softer yet so that Laura had to strain to hear him, "You didn't take your pills today, did you?"

Jake shook his head and turned away from Andrew after giving him one more look of disgust. Mr. Hamon slapped a hand to his forehead and followed the drum majors down the hallway, Mr. Deleyney sighing.

"See, I've made my point right there. There is too much drama in this corps right now to have a successful season. If we loosen up a little and have some fun before stressing out again at spring camp, it'll be for the better. Let's vote. Everyone in favor for a snowball fight, raise your hand."

Mr. Deleyney counted the hands raised.

"Okay, all for tag? Now, all for hide and seek, raise your hands?"

Mr. Deleyney smiled as he announced the corps would be having a snowball fight next Monday.

"Remember to wear your winter clothing. It'll get dark fast in the evening, so we'll turn a stadium light on or something and play on the football field. The corps is dismissed into their sections for practice until the end of the evening. On the command of fall out, you can go. Fall out."

Laura turned to Jon, smiling.

"How fun! We're going to have a snowball fight! I haven't had one of those in such a long time! Are you going to- Jon? Jon, what's wrong?"

Jon wasn't smiling his usual smile after Mr. Deleyney announced there would be sectionals. Should he tell Laura what had happened the other day, with Thomas and all his mistakes? Should he ask her to come and support him, even though she was still working on the folders and sets and sheet music for the directors?

"Jon, what's the problem? Why are you upset?"

Jon looked down at Laura's face and shook his head, putting on a smile, a facade. Why get her involved right now? She needed to heal and not worry about his own problems. It was something he needed to work on for himself before dragging Laura into it.

"It's nothing, Laura. When do you think you'll be back with the trumpets for sectionals?"

"Within the next two weeks. I'm working on scales, though, so my embouchure shouldn't be as weak as Mr. Deleyney first thought it would be by the time I come back. Why?"

"I'm just worried about you. Be careful with that arm and I'll see you after practice, okay?"

"Oh, okay," Laura said, biting her lip as Jon turned away and walked toward the practice rooms. She wondered what he wasn't telling her, but her train of thought was soon broken by the sound of the plastic lid snapping under Mr. Deleyney's weight, causing the director to fall in an unceremonious heap on the floor, surrounded by plumes.

* * *

"Jake, you know you need to take your pills, especially on days like these," Mr. Hamon said, sitting next to Jake on the floor. The two were leaning against the wall, sitting on the cold tile, while Thomas paced back and forth in front of them.

"I thought I could get through today without them. I did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that..."

"Part of the reason this happened was because you were off the medication for so long. Skipping three days is borderline safe. Skipping four days is too much. You have to be careful."

"I just hate having to rely on the medication," Jake answered Mr. Hamon, resting his arms on his knees. "I don't feel like I'm myself."

"You act no different on the medication than how you did before everything happened," Thomas answered. "You still have the same attitude, say the same things, have the same smile and everything. You just need the medication to keep that after Robert's death."

"It shouldn't have affected me like that," Jake replied bitterly. "It was just one person. One accident..."

"But you were close to Robert and sometimes, just like the doctor told you, the brain does crazy things after a trauma. You need the medication. Thomas, will you stop pacing?" Mr. Hamon snapped, "You're making me nervous."

Thomas stopped pacing, but stayed standing, his shadow falling over Jake, who was still sitting on the floor, looking at his hands.

"I just don't want to become reliant on it," Jake said. "I want to be the best leader I can be."

"You are a good leader, Jake, but you already are reliant on it. You need your medication," Mr. Hamon said, sighing. He felt like he was going in circles with this boy. This had happened at least two times before: Jake had skipped his medication and had acted unlike his usual happy self.

"I just wish none of it would have happened, none of it. The fact Robert is gone-"

"-Isn't enough to change the fact you need your medication," Mr. Hamon said. "Or, do you like falling into your depression?"

"No," Jake answered. "I don't like it at all."

"Why?" prodded Mr. Hamon, trying to get Jake to admit it himself.

"When I'm off it, the snow is so familiar. I don't want to see the memories, but I don't want to forget Robert. I don't know what I want."

"Then dull the pain," Thomas said, his soft voice breaking the mood set between Mr. Hamon and Jake. "If you can't stand the pain the memories brings you, dull it. Take it away by taking your anti-depressant medication. I can't imagine you enjoy the memories the medication suppresses, especially if they cause this. Just do it and be done."

Thomas patted Jake's shoulder before leaving the hallway. Mr. Hamon, giving Thomas a peculiar look, followed.

"Just remember, Jake," Mr. Hamon said before he left, "You have to live with whatever you decide to do, because nothing can change the past. I'll see you in sectionals in a little bit."

Jake was left alone in the hallway, the bright florescent lights flickering. Digging in his pocket, Jake brought out the little orange bottle, the pills visible through the plastic; screwing off the white cap, Jake took out the usual dose and put them in his mouth. Swallowing, Jake sighed and sat there, leaning against the wall with his legs drawn up to his chest, arms dangling off his knees, his fingers barely holding the pill bottle above his feet. As soon as he felt he could smile again and face the corps, he would leave.

But not until then.

_

* * *

I didn't mean to dull the mood there or anything. I expect a lot of fun to come up in the next few chapters, but this was sort of a chapter to set things up. I wanted to explain why Jake needed pills and to clear some of the Robert things that were hanging in the air away. Jon is a little nervous of telling Laura about Thomas because he doesn't want to drag her into something she might not be able to get out of. Agh, the angst! Anyway, much more fun and exciting chapters coming up soon (more fun than hearing about poor Jake's issues). Thanks so much for reading and please tell me what you think!_

(P.S. Thank you, clarinetbandgeek07 for finding my mistake; it was supposed to be Jake! That and I hope I got your pen name right... I fixed it! Thanks! Heads up to any readers; I'm going to be going back and fixing any mistakes from the beginning to the current chapter, so nothing will be changing except the mistakes I've found and corrected... Thank you!)


	32. The Snowball Fight

_Hey, everyone! I'm sorry about the wait for this next chapter! It's been so busy since school is underway! College applications, scholarships, and plain old grades themselves! Gah. My College Composition class is cramping my style, I think. I'm a creative writer; I'm not very good at journalism! (But I am doing really well in the class... figure that one out! ) That and I've been really sick the past few days. Something I just picked up that I can't shake off, so I've been sleeping and drinking LOTS of orange juice. I never realized how awful orange juice tastes warm until the other day... I love ice cubes, though, in the juice because I can chew on them when they get small. Not the best for my_ _teeth, but it's the best thing next to Popsicles! Why am I talking about this? I have a blog for this stuff and I don't need to bore everyone with this! Hehe..._

_Oh, speaking of 'blog,' I'm working on creating a community (or another journal) on LiveJournal just for my stories. I'm working on getting my illustrations for this story (yes, Hearts Of Glass has illustrations!) uploaded so I can create a virtual novel with visual art! How awesome is that? But, it's only going to happen if I can get all my pictures uploaded somehow without a scanner... (PyrateRose and chibbiconfettiqueen, this means I'm coming over to your house for your scanner! Hehe...) Anyone have any Hearts Of Glass art they want to post on LiveJournal? Let me know about it and I'll talk to you! I just love fan art! No pressure, though; I know how busy life can get, believe me! _

_I have a lot of babbles to get out before the story, huh? Anyway, I'm going to answer another question:_

_Question #3: Did Mr. Deleyney Get Hurt After Falling Off The Box Of Plumes: No, he didn't. He is quite fine. I was surprised at how many people asked me that! Mr. Deleyney is well loved! He's okay, though, and went away with the knowledge that plastic container lids are not as sturdy as they seem._

_Here we go with another chapter, guys, and thanks for reading this very long author's note!_

**

* * *

The Snowball Fight **

Laura braced herself against the chill wind as she stepped outside into the snow, wrapping her scarf tighter and pulling it up to her mouth. The snow was deep and sticky, causing Laura's boots to nearly come off her feet, and the sun was bright in the sky. Even though the wind was cold, the rays falling across her were hot, causing her to sweat already in her heavy feather-down jacket. Walking to the football field, where the snow lay fresh and pure on the ground, Laura fought the urge to close her eyes against the wind. It wasn't exactly weather she was fond of, but the landscape was beautiful. The sun was slowly setting and, after a hard day at school, Laura half hoped she would hit Andrew with a snowball.

She had been falling behind in school the past few weeks, hardly maintaining a high C average. Usually, she was an A student, so this was surprising to her teachers and parents, the latter of which being very unhappy with her.

"Laura, what is the meaning of this?" her father had asked at dinner the other night, placing an already opened envelope from the school on the table. "It's from your history teacher about your last test. How could you have nearly failed it? You love the colonial period, right?"

"Well, not exactly love it, but..." Laura had said, trailing off when she realized it would only anger her parents even more if she was lippy about it. Pulling the paper out of the envelope was a message from her history teacher along with her current grade sheet.

Mr. And Mrs. Harring,

Laura's grades have been steadily dropping over the past few weeks. I understand she hurt her wrist and has just come off pain medication, but I was not expecting this much of a decline in class. I do not know what is keeping Laura from studying or concentrating on her work, but I hope any issues are resolved before the test next week. If there is anything I can do or anything I do not understand, I would be very pleased to talk with you and Laura face to face at a conference at your convenience.

Thank you very much!

Laura read the signature of her history teacher with growing dread, knowing what was coming as soon as she looked up at her parents.

_"Laura, I know you love being a member of this marching band," her mother said, "But you might have to take a break from your band if your grades don't rise. Do you understand?"_

_"It's not a marching band," Laura said hotly, "It's a drum corps, and I can't just leave for a little while because I'm not doing so well in school. It's an organization that can't spare a single member because they are getting a bad grade."_

_"Don't smart back to your mother," her father said, frowning. "We understand the corps means a lot to you, but if you don't raise your grades, there will be a punishment. And it will involve taking away your marching for a little while, at least."_

"Laura are you okay?" Jon said, shaking Laura's shoulder, snapping her out of the flashback she was having. "You're all red in the face."

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking of- Never mind."

"Anything I can help you with?"

"Not unless you know about the colonial times and how to tutor History."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah."

The two continued their walk to the football field, bracing themselves against the wind, Laura shaking. Her wrist was in it's cast, but she could feel the chill come through her coat and settle in her bones, setting her nerves on edge. She could see Mr. Hamon and Mr. Deleyney sitting in the bleachers where they had swept the snow from the metal seats, Mr. Hamon listening patiently as Mr. Deleyney explained something inaudible because of the whistle of the wind. Looking behind her, Laura could see Thomas and Jake following in the back of the group, Jake smiling with his hands in his pockets while Thomas was trying to roll step in the sticky snow.

"Hey, Laura, walk behind me if the wind is too cold."

"Oh, no, that's okay. I wouldn't-" Laura tried to explain quickly, realizing she was shaking. Jon's arm swept her behind him, however, and Laura smiled back as Jon grinned at her over his shoulder. She grabbed one of his puffy jacket sleeves to guide her as she walked blindly behind Jon and couldn't understand why she couldn't stop smiling. She couldn't see Thomas behind her, though, his cold face trying to remain impassive as he watched Laura and Jon walk onto the field together, a smile on Laura's face.

* * *

"Welcome to The Knights Official Snowball Fight!" Mr. Deleyney shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth so the group gathered around him could hear. "These are the rules: One, you must stay on your team. No switching teams to confuse your enemy or fellow team mates. Punishment will be that every member of the corps will have the opportunity to throw one snowball at you from a close distance!" 

A few people laughed and nodded their heads as Mr. Deleyney continued.

"Second rule is no ice balls. It's a snowball fight, not an ice ball fight and you can really hurt someone with an ice ball. You throw an ice ball, you are kicked out of the winter games for tonight and the next event. Third rule: No grinding snow into other people's faces or down their jacket or down their pants. Punishment for this is Mr. Hamon getting thirty seconds of snow free-style to bestow onto you whatever you just gave the other guy!"

Mr. Hamon smiled and a few people stepped away from him, giving him a wide berth. The veterans of the winter games all knew Mr. Hamon loved to enforce the rules if they were broken, and sometimes enforced the punishments on unbroken rules, too.

"Jake and Thomas are going to split you into teams, Jake leading Team One, Thomas leading Team Two. There are no limitations on shelters or walls, but you have a time limit of fifteen minutes to get your side of the field set up. Team One gets the right side of the 50 yard line, Team Two gets the other side. Get to work, Knights!"

"Okay, corps, one straight line," Jake ordered, people scattering to obey and form the straightest line possible. "Thomas is going to count you off randomly, making sure there are equal members per team."

"Jon, get on the other side of him," Laura whispered, fighting to be heard over the wind, pointing to the baritone player next to her. "That way, we'll be on the same team when Thomas counts us off!"

Jon smiled knowingly and obeyed, winking at Laura. Laura faced forward and smiled wider as she could hear Thomas going down the line, "One, two, one, two, one, two..." When Thomas got to Laura, however, he didn't stay in order and told her she was two, on his team. Laura felt the panic subside as she remembered that Jon would be a two, also, but dropped her jaw when Thomas skipped a number again and told Jon he was a one, on Jake's team.

Thomas and Jon made brief eye contact before Thomas moved on, the usual fire and ice glares making Laura nervous. Thomas moved on down the line and Jon looked over at Laura and shrugged. After everyone was counted off, in the rush to run to the proper side of the football field, Jon gave Laura's shoulder a quick squeeze.

"Don't worry, I won't get you."

"That's not fair."

"I'm not going to get you, but I'm going to get Thomas!"

"Be careful!" Laura shouted after him, blushing after she realized a few of the boys were looking at her and laughing. She had just called after Jon to be careful, like a mother or a girlfriend. How embarrassing. Fighting the blood rushing to her face, Laura ran to her side of the football field and started helping build the wall on the 50 yard line, waiting for the game to begin.

* * *

"Andrew," Mr. Hamon called, "Get over here and do your punishment!" 

"But I didn't hit anyone yet!" protested Andrew, who was building his own personal wall as protection from Thomas' team, who was building one massive wall on the 50 yard line as well as several smaller walls inside their 'fortress.'

"That doesn't matter," Mr. Hamon answered. "You still owe me a mile and push ups for tonight's practice."

"Still?"

"Get over here before I go free style on your-"

"Peter, shut up," Mr. Deleyney said. "Just make Andrew do the mile and push ups and choose a side."

"I am a referee," Mr. Hamon answered, watching Andrew jog toward him. Mr. Hamon pointed his finger to the track, where the black rubber was buried under snow, and Andrew started running, giving the marching director the occasional glare.

"Okay. I'm going to walk around and make sure everyone is behaving themselves. As long as you're a ref, can you keep an eye on Laura? I'm not sure she should be out here in her condition."

"Tyler, the princess can handle it by herself. She wouldn't be out here if she didn't know the risks and didn't know how to protect her arm."

"What if it gets hurt even more?"

"Then pull her out yourself and deny her a learning experience!"

"What is she learning, Peter, besides how to throw a snowball?" asked Mr. Deleyney, exasperated.

"Who her friends really are," Mr. Hamon answered, raising an eyebrow as he walked past the music instructor.

* * *

Laura was gasping for more air, wisps of hair that had escaped from her braid flying around her face. She was having such a good time, dodging and ducking every snowball that came at her, diving behind walls and shelters and creating more snowballs. She realized how tough it was to create snowballs with just one hand, keeping her injured wrist inside her jacket for added protection, but succeeded in making them just as good as everyone else's. Glancing up over the wall she was hiding behind, a pile of snowballs waiting at her knees, Laura smiled as she saw Jake dodge a snowball and laugh in delight, scooping snow up and pounding it into a ball form before returning fire. Jon was right behind the drum major, covering Jake and diving to the ground as a member from her team threw a particularly large snowball at him. She wasn't going to be able to beat all the guys, and the boys knew there was a girl to watch out for. Once in a while, a boy would work up the courage to throw a snowball at her, not very hard, and Laura would be able to duck it and return fire as best as she could. Mr. Hamon was watching very carefully from his position on top of the snow podium he had built for himself at the end of the 50 yard line how the boys treated Laura. 

It was slightly frustrating, that her teammates would always let her have most of the walls or snowballs and protect her, but Laura was thankful for it at the same time. If she wasn't injured and the boys had not been coached so well in chivalry, it would be annoying. Laura didn't enjoy the extra attention they paid her, but didn't mind the extra protection.

It was starting to get dark and Mr. Deleyney turned on the stadium lights, causing the snow to blind nearly everyone with it's white brilliance. The director turned off all the lights except for two of them, and it wasn't nearly as bad as before, the cold stadium lights casting everything into shadow and blurs of color as people ran around and hid behind snow walls. One group of boys on Jake's team had given up altogether on the fight and started to build a snow fort, rolling giant balls of snow together and stacking them against one another to create walls.

Laura could see Thomas a few feet away from her in the darkness, the stadium lights not giving enough visibility to their section of the field. She still had to catch her breath when she looked at him, his pale skin and blond hair contrasting with the black and white of shadows and snow. He was still handsome and Laura could feel her heart pound a little faster just looking at him, but, knowing more about him that what she knew in those bleachers last summer, she wasn't blinded by her feelings for him. In fact, there was still a cold spot in her heart for all that he had done to her; she had to remember the punishment he had given her at the beginning of the season, the push ups she had been unable to finish in front of the entire corps. She cared for him and hated him at the same time.

Looking over the wall, Laura packed more snowballs together and tossed a few to boys running past her, the guys smiling gratefully that they didn't have to make the snowball they were about to throw at the other team. Laura saw Jon and decided to surprise him with a good hearted attack. Grabbing several snowballs, Laura got up and began throwing them, one hitting Jon in the shoulder. Jon was startled and realized it was Laura who had thrown it, laughing as he prepared another snowball to throw back. Out of the corner of her eye, Laura could see someone raise their arm with a snowball in their hand, about to throw it at her. In a moment, though, Laura realized it was Andrew, and the smile faded from her face as she saw the snarl on Andrew's face. Thomas and Jon, who had both been watching Laura, saw him, too.

Time slowed down as Andrew threw the snowball with an extreme force toward Laura. As it flew through the air, Laura could see through the snowball, realizing it wasn't a snowball at all. Jon ran at Andrew, nearly getting hit with snowballs from his own team as he tried to reach Andrew, not in time to keep him from throwing the snowball they saw, but to stop Andrew before he could throw another one. Laura felt arms wrap around her and she had the sickening sensation of being swung around. She buried her head in whatever was shielding her and braced herself against the impact of the snowball. The snowball hit her shield, making it shake and make a small cry of pain. Opening her eyes, Laura hesitantly looked up at whoever had saved her from Andrew's attack. Thomas' blue eyes looked back at her, lips pressed together to keep any more cries from escaping. At their feet was the broken remains of what Andrew had thrown.

It wasn't a snowball at all. It was an ice ball, perfectly made, perfectly shattered from it's impact against Thomas' back.

Mr Hamon jumped off his snow podium and ran toward them, Mr. Deleyney following. The rest of the corps stopped the snowball fight and watched as Jon and Andrew began fighting, Andrew trying to hit Jon as Jon dodged his blows and continued calling Andrew every name he could think of.

"Are you hurt?" Mr. Hamon asked Laura as Thomas unwrapped his arms from her body and tried to stay standing, knees shaking. Laura looked at Thomas with fearful eyes as Thomas tried to stay standing and take a breath, the wind knocked out of him.

"Hey, I asked if you were hurt!"

"No, I'm not," Laura answered, never looking away from Thomas. "He saved me."

"What hit him?" Mr. Deleyney asked, grabbing Thomas' shoulder and trying to force him to sit down. Thomas, in his pride and arrogance, wouldn't be as weak as to sit down. It was bad enough he had uttered a cry of pain; he didn't need to look weak in front of the corps anymore than he already had.

"An ice ball," Mr. Hamon said, his voice hushed as he picked up the remains of the large, broken ice ball on the ground. In his hands, it looked like Mr. Hamon held a pile of large ice cubes that had been chopped with a dull knife. Turning around, still holding the ice chunks, Mr. Hamon watched Jon dodge another punch Andrew tried to make, Jake stepping in and trying to grab Andrew's elbow to keep him from swinging again. The rest of the corps members knew better than to join in, remembering the last time they had had a corps brawl and all the chaos that had ensued because of it. They didn't want Mr. Hamon to make another speech concerning the entire group and watched angrily as Andrew couldn't be controlled by Jake, who was nearly smacked in the ribs by the percussionist.

"Andrew!" shouted Mr. Hamon, striding down the field, "Did you throw this?"

"No!" Andrew shouted. "I didn't do nothing!"

"I saw you throw it!" yelled Jon. "You could have hit Laura!"

"I wasn't aiming for the girl!" Andrew answered angrily.

"You just said you didn't throw it!" Jake said, backing away as Mr. Hamon reached the percussionist. The yelling stopped and everyone could see Mr. Hamon grind the remains of the ball in his hands, bits of ice falling between his fingers. If the marching director was strong enough to crush ice with his hands, he was strong enough to make Andrew sorry for ever thinking of making an ice ball.

"You're coming with me, boy," Mr. Hamon growled, grabbing the back of Andrew's jacket and twisting it, forcing Andrew to walk ahead of him. Andrew, fear setting in where anger had died out, didn't even try and make an excuse as they walked back to the school. All the attention was turned now to Laura, Thomas, and Mr. Deleyney, Jon and Jake running up to them.

"Laura!" Jon said, pulling Laura into a hug, Laura never taking her eyes from Thomas, who had obliged Mr. Deleyney's requests to sit down by kneeling on one knee, hunched over, taking deep breaths. "Are you hurt?"

"No!" she said, shaking. "Thomas is!"

Jake bent by Thomas' side and grabbed his arm, Thomas shaking him off.

"I'm- fine!" Thomas wheezed, glaring. "Leave- me alone!"

"Corps, you're dismissed for the night," Mr. Deleyney said, standing up and checking his watch. "We had to end the snowball fight in twenty minutes, anyway. Thank you for being such good sports tonight and it went well, besides this little accident. On the command of fall out, go home and get some rest. Fall out."

Corps members muttered their goodbyes and clapped each other on the back, casting wary and concerned looks in Thomas' direction. Everyone noticed that, though the pain, Thomas was glaring at Jon, who had never let go of Laura. After several minutes, only the drum majors, the music director, and the two trumpet players left on the field, Thomas stood up and made his way with Jake to the school. Jon and Laura followed, trying to ignore the silence that had swept over the field. Mr. Deleyney turned off the stadium lights and made his way back to the school in the dark, the only lights to guide his way being the lights from the parking lot and the Christmas decorations from the houses surrounding the college, a jolly light in the darkest of moments.

* * *

_There we are! I had so much fun writing this chapter! Same as always; if you have a question, comment, or just want to review, I appreciate it all! I'm so sorry I haven't gotten back to some of you who have sent me reviews! I apologize and I haven't forgotten about you! Hope to hear from you soon! Thanks for reading and I'll update sooner than later!_


	33. Dinner For Three

_Hello, everyone! I have to admit I was in a bit of a bad mood, that is why I decided to work on this story. My director and I had a fight and I'm really crabby and sad. Gah. But, I always feel better when I write and this story has so many fans, I wouldn't want to keep you all waiting! I was thinking about the next few chapters in class today and I've realized a few things that I have to add in! Hehe... I can't say too much because then I'll give it away._

_Thanks for all the beautiful reviews! I feel so special! It's the topping on the cake when I work on this story: hearing from my readers. (That and the sense of accomplishment I feel when I get a chapter done! Hehe...) We've passed review #150, thank you very much! I never thought this story would be so popular!_

_Question #4 (right, it's 4?): Is Jon More Than A Friend To Laura?: Okay, I've had a few readers ask me this and I can't flat out say yes or no. I agree with some of you that it would be really bad if I just paired Laura and Jon and left it like that. I'm not going to do that, though, am I? Jon is Laura's very best friend in the corps, and at this point, I'm thinking he is just going to do everything in his power to aggravate Thomas right now. Thomas is WAY too possessive of Laura at the moment and he doesn't even like her (or does he? Hehe...) So, at this point, they are just friends! I hope this set a few fears at rest! The horror..._

_Okay, here we go with another chapter. I just love talking about the directors at dinner because I can focus on the plot and get everything all settled away for the next "set" of chapters. Thanks so much for all the support, guys!_

**

* * *

Dinner For Three**

The comforting click of silverware and coffee mugs filled their favorite diner, the mingled scent of grease, coffee, and the waitress' perfume in the air, causing Peter to sneeze as he shoved aside his menu. The waitress laughed as she took their orders and sauntered off, the cook yelling for her that another order was up. Tyler offered Peter a tissue as Paul spun the salt shaker in it's holder mindlessly, humming under his breath.

"Allergic to something?" Tyler joked as Peter sneezed again, Paul grimacing as Peter crumpled the tissue and tossed it on the table.

"That's disgusting," the color guard commander said, Peter mimicking him. Tyler rolled his eyes.

"Come on, you two, that's enough. We have to act like adults in public."

"What do you know about being an adult, Tyler?"

"Stop."

"Yeah, Peter, stop while you're ahead!" Paul laughed before Tyler threw another tissue at him.

"I'm sick from being out in the damn snow," Peter complained, "And I'm cold, and I just want to go home."

"You said you were hungry, so we decided to stop for a bite. Now you want to go home?" asked the music director, raising an eyebrow. "Nope, you're here until Paul finishes his French fries..."

Paul grinned.

"I'll be sure to eat them extra slow."

Peter tossed the pepper shaker this time and the shaker broke, the top coming off and strewing pepper everywhere. Tyler and Peter rolled their eyes and watched as Paul swept as much pepper as he could into a napkin and folded it into a neat square, placing it in front of Peter before putting the top back on.

"Merry Christmas, from me to you."

"Shut up, Paul."

The three directors sat there for several minutes, listening to the chatter around them. Peter, who had the entire seat across from Tyler and Paul to himself, stretched out like usual, placing his hands behind his head and nearly kicking Paul with his feet under the table. The marching director shut his eyes and sighed. Paul looked out the window at all the headlights and Christmas lights and slush in the parking lot, a faint smile on his face. He didn't necessarily want winter to consist of snow, but thought it was nice as long as you were indoors. It cast an entire blanket over the world of pure white, tinted only with the glow of ornaments; Paul enjoyed the decorations and kicked back at Peter as his feet were shoved aside. Tyler, who sat closest to the aisle in Paul's booth, rested his head in his hands, elbows on the table, and studied the people around him. It wasn't really a hobby, people-watching, but he could think better as people passed by, as if he wasn't even there and couldn't see him even if they wanted to. It gave Tyler time to think, and thinking was what he needed to do.

They said nothing until the waitress came back with their orders, the usual for every one of them. Paul took a sip of his drink as he passed Tyler the salt, Peter grimacing as the greasy smell of french fries and a hamburger wafted up from his basket. He leaned farther back in his seat and never opened his eyes as he started to talk.

"You know what I did to Andrew after I took him back to the building?" Peter asked, talking unusually soft. "I didn't scream. I didn't get red in the face. I didn't even frown at him. I just looked at him. And he burst into tears."

"Didn't he do that, though, after you talked to him about the letter he and Matt sent?" Tyler asked curiously.

"Yeah, but I had yelled and screamed and gotten so angry like I usually do, I bet the kid thought I was going to kill him."

"You threatened to, didn't you?"

"No. I didn't even tell him I would kick him out of the corps. I gave him a punishment, a warning, and that was that. Andrew dried his eyes and walked away like nothing had happened, that he hadn't just been sentenced to a mile and push ups before every practice, like his best friend hadn't just been kicked out of the corps."

"Why would he cry and just get over it like that?" Paul asked, chewing a french fry thoughtfully. "Any of the boys I've had to talk to are remorse, but none have ever cried. I'm assuming he thought if he cried he would get out of a harsher punishment."

"That's what I thought," Peter continued, opening his eyes and looking straight up at the stained ceiling tiles. "But, I didn't even say anything. I just stood there and looked at him and he cried."

"Sobbed?"

"Not exactly. He just stood there and cried, tears running down his face, sniffling. I just thought it was because we had come out of the cold and into a hot building, but they were actually tears and he was upset."

"What did he do?" Paul asked.

"Tried to throw an ice ball at Laura Harring, the girl with the hurt wrist," Tyler answered.

"Figuring she's the only girl in the corps, I assumed it was her," Paul answered sarcastically. "Why am I never informed about these things until all the drama is over?"

"Because we have enough drama without a damned color guard hanging around," Peter muttered.

"Sorry, Paul," Tyler said, laying a hand on Paul's shoulder, "We'll let you know right away next time something happens."

"What do you mean, 'next time'?"

"Because, Peter, you know as well as I do that it's not the end of all issues, not yet. Anyway, continue with the story."

"So, Andrew is crying and I'm standing there. I don't really know what to do. Part of me wants to shake him and give him that beating I had in mind. Part of me wants to just walk away. All I did was stand there until_ he_ walked away. He stumbled off to the bathroom and I left."

"Great job," Paul said caustically, "You did nothing about the ice ball?"

"I like to think I did something," Peter answered, frowning, "I like to think that Andrew is now so embarrassed that he'd just quit the corps or something, but I don't know what is going through that boy's head. He tried to hurt a fellow corps member, so I have to call his parents tomorrow and explain to him that it's against drum and bugle corps policy to abuse another team mate. I don't know what his parents are going to do. They already know he backed Matt up in the big corps brawl and that he was demoted for writing that letter, but I don't know if they're talking to him about this or if they're just as scared of him as the boys are. Are we going to expel him from the corps for trying to hurt a member of the corps?"

"I hate to say we have to, because he's a good percussionist, but we have to," Tyler said. "That would make two members we've had to disown in the season so far and we're not even to Christmas! This hasn't happened before."

"We've never had a girl in the corps before, either," Peter said, unlacing his fingers from behind his head and sitting up. "Do you think there is a connec-"

"Of course there's a connection!" Paul answered, cutting Peter off mid sentence. "You've had to get rid of the two boys who have had the biggest problem with Laura. Soon, everyone who doesn't like her will either quit or get kicked out."

"We're going to lose half the corps that way and the assistant drum major."

"Paul, get serious," Peter answered, taking a swig of his drink and shaking his head in disgust. "Thomas doesn't hate Laura."

"He's always treating her so cold, though..."

"Who doesn't Thomas treat coldly? That boy is a conducting machine and has great form, but he's not a people person."

"That's why you have Jake," Paul said with a smile. "How is he doing? Taking his medication?"

Tyler shook his head and Paul bit his lip.

"Oh... He knows better than to not take his-"

"Paul?" Peter asked.

"Yes?"

"Let's not talk about it."

Paul shut his mouth and the three directors sat in silence again until Paul couldn't hold back his next question any longer.

"So, how hurt was Laura from the ice ball?"

"She wasn't hit," Tyler answered, finishing his meal and taking a sip of coffee.

"What happened, then?"

"Thomas ran in front of her-"

"And took the hit?" Paul asked excitedly, "How sweet!"

"First of all, I hate it when you interrupt me," Peter said, sniffling and searching his pockets for another tissue. "Second of all, it's not sweet. That ice ball fell apart when it hit him in the back. If he would have been hit in the head, can you say concussion?"

"Concussion," Paul said seriously, reaching across the table to grab a french fry from Peter's basket and chewed on it very slowly. "Is he going to be alright?"

"He's going to be okay," Tyler said, "Fortunately, there was a sporting event at the college gym and a first aid worker was there. He checked Thomas out and said he would only have a bruise."

"Only a bruise... Not bad."

"Except the bruise is going to cover a fourth of his back," Peter said, flagging down a waitress and asking for a carry out box for his nearly untouched meal.

"Thomas is going to find conducting painful for a little while," Tyler said, Paul shrugging.

"Well, at least he'll have a bruise to keep his scars company."

The mood was somber until Peter, in desperate need of a tissue, grabbed the napkin across from Paul, realizing too late it was full of pepper as he sneezed into it.

"That really wasn't very nice," Tyler said as Peter snarled obscenities on his way to wash the pepper off his face. Paul watched the marching director storm off.

"I never gave it to him. He grabbed it."

"We are such children," Tyler sighed, paying for his meal and putting on his coat. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Paul."

"Goodnight," the color guard director answered, getting ready to leave before Peter came back to pound him into a pulp right there in the restaurant. He paid for the marching director's meal as well as his own on his way out, however, and then walked out into the snow, singing a tune softly.

"_Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow..._"

_

* * *

There we are! Sorry if it seemed like it was a lot of nonsense or something. It really wasn't; I like to do recaps, though, of the previous chapter 'sets' so readers can get all caught up and remember things that I'm going to discuss later on. I also like to show how these men are can be childish, too, when no one is around because it makes them people. I'm not sure if it's just me, but I think adults (and I know some adults do) act really silly once in a while, just like the kids they teach and work with. It keeps them young, no matter what age they really are._

_Okay, I don't have to go off on a tangent every time I write something, do I? I'll stop now... Hehe... I don't own that song at the end, though, the one Paul sang... disclaimer!_

_Anyway, thank you so much for reading and sharing in another chapter! I hope to hear from you and I'll be more than pleased to answer any comments/questions you might have! Remember, the more feedback I hear, the better I can write for the reader! (And myself, but I already know my basic plan and reader feedback is good... Here I go again!)_

_Thank you and I'll update soon!_


	34. A Quiet Moment

_Hello! I'm sorry about the long time it took to update. It's just been one thing after another, you know? Stress has topped a high right now and I just needed to relax. I know I have tons of homework and I need to get things done, but I want to work on Hearts Of Glass a little! I'm really looking forward to one chapter in particular that is coming up that involves Thomas and a little bit of his dark drum corps past... Fun! Oh, I mean, sad... Sad for poor Thomas... Anyway, I wanted to write that one, and another scene coming up about Mr. Deleyney and his teaching, but not at the moment. It's not time yet. I figure I need to build on the story a little._

_I'm not going to be able to have time for this until after Christmas, or at least not until Thanksgiving, but I might be extending this story! Adding chapters, adding parts in chapters; basically adding more depth, more development, more to explain everything and lengthen it to a novel size. This is just a **might** at the moment and it's going to involve a lot of work, but I thought I would just put that out there for the real big fans of this story. I like to keep my readers up to date on what is all happening for Hearts Of Glass!_

_Question #5: Why Don't We Hear More About The Colorguard?: This answer is pretty simple. It's because the story is too busy for the colorguard** at the moment.** You're going to hear more about them when it comes time for the spring training camp. Paul is in the Director's Trio and he is going to be in the spotlight a little more later on. At this point, I need to establish more in the actual 'band proper' and make sure everything I'm doing helps the reader understand Laura, Jon, and Thomas, our three main characters. As a writer, I just don't feel I'm ready for another element for the story. Sorry! I have big plans for the colorguard later on, though, so stay tuned! I can understand your impatience, all you colorguard fans; I remember you and I'll make sure you're happy in the end!_

_Here we go! (I notice the author's notes become longer and longer here... Does anyone have a problem about this? I know a few readers I've heard from like the longer notes because then they understand more of where the story is heading and what I'm planning... If you don't like/do like long author notes, let me know and I'll do something about it!)_

**

* * *

A Quiet Moment**

"Trumpets, let's start with some chord building practice," Jon said cheerfully, arranging the sheets on the music stand before him. The trumpet section looked back at him expectantly for more instruction and Jon felt himself drawing a blank. No, he told himself, Keep going. Don't let the ideas disappear! Skimming one of the many pieces of paper on the stand, he read what he had written the other night and found the chords he had wanted to work on. Clearing his throat, he continued the warm up.

This was the last trumpet sectional Laura would be missing, according to Mr. Deleyney. They were almost done with the last movement to the show and the drill was coming along nicely; they needed Laura to help copy and arrange the music into the proper folders. Next week, after the second session of the winter games, Laura could play her trumpet with the group again. Jon was looking forward to that day; it meant there would be a friendly facing looking back at him when he smiled at the section, and not the constant reminder of his failures as a new section leader. The reminder came from the reflection of his own trumpet in the eyes of the Assistant Drum Major, who was standing in the back of the room in his usual stance, never blinking as Jon looked back at him.

"Good job, guys," Jon said as they finished the chord practice. He took a large stack of paper from his folder and began passing them around the room.

"What's this?" one of the trumpet players asked, looking at it curiously.

"This is a scale sheet, with every one of the basic scales on it for reference. Now, if we all take a look at the scales in minor at the bottom of the page, we can-"

Jon stumbled over his words as he could sense the mood in the practice room change significantly, making him very uncomfortable. What had he done wrong this time? He didn't see any mistake in handing out scale sheets... Looking at Thomas, Jon could tell nothing from the drum major's cold gaze, making him even more uncomfortable. Just like he had done with the chord practice, he reviewed one of the handwritten sheets on his stand and then let the group in the scale exercise. Jon noticed no one really looked at their sheet, the scales Jon had painstakingly copied on his computer and printed, one for every trumpet player.

"Why are we not looking at the sheet?" Jon finally asked, squirming under Thomas' gaze, which was putting more pressure on him than Jon felt he needed at the moment. There were a few mutters and shuffling of feet, no one making eye contact with their section leader. Frustrated, Jon decided to try out his section leader voice.

"I asked the section a question," Jon boomed, "And I expect an answer! Stand still with your mouth shut unless I'm talking to you!"

The room instantly grew silent, which might have had something to do with the fact that a drum major was in the room, taking note of anyone who might disobey a section leader's orders.

"Why is no one looking at their sheets?" Jon asked, randomly pointing to a trumpet player in the the front row. After noticing his arm was shaking, Jon clenched his hand into a fist and bit his lip, trying to look stern. "Tell me."

"Well, um..."

"Answer me like like a Knight would!"

"These scales are memorized, section leader," the trumpet player answered, voice much stronger than Jon's, who felt an icy chill of realization come over him. He felt like such an idiot. Of course the scales had to be memorized! It had been part of the requirement for auditions!

"Thank you," Jon said to the performer who had answered him, feeling his ears turn red. "You had the guts to tell me. I applaud that."

Jon clapped several times and then heaved a great sigh. He refused to even glance at Thomas for fear of the drum major saying a single thing; as it was, he was bombing quite nicely all by himself.

"Open your folders," Jon said, shuffling the notebook pages on their special corner of the music stand, the notes he had made to himself the previous night. They were full of scribbles and numbers that Jon couldn't remember ever writing down to begin with, supposedly measure numbers he had wanted to work on. At the moment, all he could do was guess at what he had meant and try and lead the trumpets in a successful sectional.

* * *

Laura sat on the floor of the auditorium, sorting copies she had just made. The pages were still warm and the comforting lines of future drill were written across the white surface. Her eyes, adjusted to the dim lights of the auditorium, glanced over the drill as she punched the sides with her paper puncher and slipped the page into a folder in the stack on her right. Shutting the folder, Laura carefully put it on the pile to her left, the stack of folders that now had page thirty of drill and page twelve of music. Now it was time to start on page thirty one of drill and page thirteen of music, the last page of music in the show.

Laying on her stomach near the stage, Laura could feel the plushness of the carpet that had not been trampled in the numerous presentations in the theater, rough but pliable under her fingers. The faint scent of dirt, the dirt that never left parts of the carpet no matter how many times it was vacuumed and cleaned by custodians, mingled with the bitter smell of ink, enhanced by the warm paper. The paper almost smelled burnt and Laura sniffed one page, just to make sure it really wasn't singed. She had made so many copies that she was afraid the copy machine was going to explode if she went back for a single page. As it was, the copy room had had a nauseating mix of heat and ink and paper, making Laura slightly dizzy.

"Don't sniff the drill."

Laura was startled by Mr. Hamon's voice, coming from three rows up in the auditorium seats. The marching director was wearing a black turtleneck with his sunglasses tucked into the collar, appearing to be very uncomfortable as he hunched over his laptop. His fingers punched the keys on the keyboard roughly, as though he were angry, but there was a determination in his eyes. He was going to finish the drill that night if it killed him.

"I never thought I would ever have to say those words," Mr. Hamon continued, face illuminated by the bright light of his laptop screen, "Don't sniff the drill. Jeeze."

"I wasn't sniffing it," Laura said quietly, punching the paper and placing it in a folder, placing the folder on the stack, then moving onto the next folder.

"Okay," Mr. Hamon said sarcastically, the lights changing color and dancing across his face as he hit a button and animated the drill. Laura watched out of the corner of her eye as he nodded in approval of his own work.

"Where is Mr. Deleyney?" she asked, hoping she sounded flippant about it. Truth be told, she was nervous about being left alone with Mr. Hamon for company. She compared it to be like sitting in a pit with a sleeping snake and an alarm clock you didn't know how to work. Once that alarm clock went off, no matter how you tried to prevent it, the snake would wake up and strike. Laura didn't want to tempt the sleeping snake.

"He's taking care of some business, which is none of _your_ business," the marching director answered, re-animating the drill again. "Aren't you done yet with that drill set? Come on, I have more work for you to do."

"Sorry," Laura said meekly, getting up. Inside, she was angry with Mr. Hamon for acting so callous with her, but what was new? She was too tired to protest, exhausted from the past week's marching practice. The corps ran what drill they had earlier in the week, after Monday's snowball fight, and Laura could still feel her muscles ache. It was Friday and it couldn't feel any less like it. Mingled with the fact that it was so warm inside the auditorium and it was so dark outside, Laura regretted the fact she had to leave the warm spot on the floor.

"Take a look at this," Mr. Hamon said, Laura sitting down next to him as he animated the drill one last time. Laura felt her mouth drop as the drill to the final movement came to life before her eyes. Even though it was all red triangles and blue squares and green circles, not to mention the mini colorguard flags twirling in a mock routine, Laura could see them all take the shapes they were supposed to.

"What do you think?"

"It's brilliant! It's the perfect ending!"

Mr. Hamon smiled smugly as he pressed the "Save" button and began to hand the laptop to Laura to take to the mini printer by the folders and the rest of Laura's 'workstation.' It was her job to take the laptop down to the printer, connect the single cable to the machine, and print out the page of drill to take to the copy room. Laura hesitated while taking the laptop, Mr. Hamon raising an eyebrow.

"Could you, um... Could you play the third movement again? Please, just once?" Laura asked quickly, feeling the words fall from her mouth before she even thought about them. Mr. Hamon raised his chin to look at Laura down his cheek and Laura blushed slightly as he nodded and put the computer back on his lap, setting the drill to play from the beginning.

"If we're going to watch it, we're going to watch it right," Mr. Hamon said with a faint smile as Laura looked over his shoulder and grinned as the little figures moved across the screen. "After all, what good is the dragon if you don't know how it appears in the first place?"

* * *

Mr. Deleyney hurried into the building, a scarf wrapped around his face as he tried to slam the door behind him to keep the snow and cold wind from getting in. The orange lights from the parking lot showed the heavy snow that was coming down, buffeted by the unforgiving wind, and the music director was freezing. Stopping in the annex in front of the auditorium doors, he shook the snow from his scarf and mittens, never wanting to step foot outside again. Or at least until spring training came around.

"Hey, Deleyney," Jake said, seeming to appear out of nowhere, startling the music director. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you!"

"Actually, I'm more scared of the wind out there than you," Tyler replied, glancing one more time out the glass windows of the doors at the weather outside. "We should warn the corps to drive safely home. If this continues, we might not be able to play our next winter game."

"It's Friday," Jake said, shrugging his shoulders, "I doubt the little storm will last until Monday. Don't worry. How did the business go?"

"It went," Mr. Deleyney said softly, motioning for Jake to lean in. "I talked with Andrew's parents and found enough evidence for me to make my decision."

"And?" Jake asked, hushed.

"He's staying. That boy needs some guidance, Jake. His house is a mess, the front yard full of junk. They live on the edge of town, about ten miles out. Bottles all over inside, drunk father, dazed mother. I'm surprised that kid didn't come out worse."

"It was that bad?"

"His father couldn't slur more than a few words out, and that was calling for another drink. Andrew's mother seemed to be in another world entirely when I talked with her about Andrew's problems in the corps. They didn't even know about the ice ball until I told them about it, which his mother denied him ever doing, making excuses for his behavior and that I had it wrong. I don't want to know how he comes up with the money to pay for the uniform and travel costs for a season. I don't even want to think about it."

"That rough, huh?" Jake asked, shuffling his feet. "Well, I suppose we can figure something out. We'll get Andrew put back together!"

"Not a word to anyone, remember?"

"I remember."

"Andrew is not to know I visited his house or met his parents. I suppose he would either be furious or embarrassed. Or a little of both. Unless they tell him, or even remember I was there, he is not to find out. That's all for now."

Jake nodded and took a drink from a nearby water fountain as Mr. Deleyney arranged his scarf and mittens and placed them in a jacket pocket.

"Where are you supposed to be?"

"Oh, I was just with the baritones," Jake answered, wiping his jaw. "I'm off to see how Thomas is treating Jon."

"Where is Peter?"

"In the auditorium with Laura, finishing the drill."

"Any bloodshed?"

"All is quiet," Jake answered, making his way to the practice room to check on the trumpets as Mr. Deleyney tiptoed into the theater.

He stood there for just a few moments as Laura and Mr. Hamon sat in their chairs, side by side, watching the dragon move across the laptop, the music playing on the speakers of the computer.

It was a peaceful moment, a quiet movement, and Mr. Deleyney didn't want it to end.

_

* * *

There we are! I know it was a weak ending (in my opinion; I could see it in my head. I should have said "A moment that had no words" because it honestly didn't have any!) but I enjoyed this chapter! Hehe... Now I'm really going to be in trouble for not working on my Winter Drumline article for the local paper! Oh, well, I love the life Laura leads at the moment, hurt wrist and all! Don't worry, some really good stuff is coming up. I just wanted a peaceful chapter to explain a few things and to give the readers a nice look into the hearts of the characters!_

_Thank you for reading and please let me know of any thoughts/comments/questions you have! I just love them!!! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope to update soon! Thanks again and I'll talk to you all very soon!_


	35. Weary Memories

_So, I feel so guilty I'm not working on my homework! Gah... If I feel guilty I should do something about it. But, working on this story is so great! I just don't get it why I can't sit down and write an essay for a college class for a grade, but I can sit down and write a chapter of this... Mental thing? Oh, well... If I care about school enough, I'll get my work done! Until then, I'm going to work on my stories! Gah... You know what I realized? This has really been the only story I have updated since it's start. I have several other stories that I have not abandoned with anxious readers, but this is the only one I update... _

_If I ever get this thing published in book form (which I'm going to try to do if I like it enough at the end) I'm going to extend the chapters and maybe not have so many. They are going to be longer chapters with more depth to them... Just a thought... Am I too critical of my work?_

_Question #6: How Come Laura Is Such A Simple Character And Other Characters Have More Depth?: Believe it or not, this is a question from one of my very good friends who started reading this story a few weeks ago. She didn't like the way Laura was portrayed... Well, I think I write Laura as a "simple" character to balance all the drama and emotion coming from the other characters. She is the neutralizer of all the problems, even though she causes most of them! I want to make her look very calm and relaxed and simple until we get to spring training when I have a few ideas to add to her character. She is the inner calm of the corps... for now. So, I hope Laura doesn't seem to be a weak character, just a simple character. Don't worry, if you like it complex, that's what you might get later on in the story!_

_Onward!!! (I haven't heard any complaints about the length of my author's notes, so that's either good or bad: good that there have been no complaints, bad that there might not be more than one or two people reading them because they have gotten so long. Feedback fixes all, as I like to say!)_

**

* * *

Weary Memories**

When the corps came back for the next installment of the winter games, the storm had died down, leaving inches of thick, fluffy snow on the ground. There was no wind, but it was not warm, the overcast clouds heavy with the promise of more snow. The sun was hidden with no chance of coming out before nightfall. As the corps walked out to the football field to play a game of tag, Mr. Deleyney turned on the stadium lights, causing Laura to second guess her decision to stay inside.

She was watching the corps make their way to the field from one of the large windows in the doors to the college music department, fingers pressed against the glass. She had told Mr. Deleyney she was going to stay in because of her wrist, but that was only part of the truth. Her wrist really did ache in the bitter cold, but she was too proud to admit she was a little afraid of Andrew. Laura had thought long and hard about going outside for the corps games and replayed the scene during the snowball fight over and over again in her head. If that ice ball would have hit her, Laura could have been in more trouble than she would have been able to deal with. He could have broken her already weakened wrist if the ice ball would have reached it's target. He could have cost her another trip to the hospital. If her parents would have found out about the ice ball, Laura bet her father would have pulled her from the corps. But, even though those things had not happened, there was always the looming threat in her mind: Someone had tried to hurt her.

Jon turned and waved at her, catching her eye as he walked past the window to the field. Laura waved back and giggled as Jon tried to make a snowball out of the fluffy snow to toss at the window, the snowball falling apart in his hands. As he walked away with the rest of the boys, Laura felt mixed emotions brewing in her heart. She wanted to be out there with him, with her friend, her protector. Although Laura hated to admit it to herself, she was starting to rely on Jon to help her. After all the fuss and fight earlier about Jon being overprotective, Laura was submitting to her own need to be protected. It was frustrating in the fact Laura didn't want to be tied to someone for safety and friendship, but how could she pull herself out of the hole she found herself in when it came to Jon? He was her best friend and, even though they had had their problems, he would always be there for her. That was what a best friend was for. But where was that line between being there and always being there?

"Get your fingers off the glass, girl," snapped a janitor, walking by with his mop cart. "I just cleaned that!"

"Oh, sorry," Laura said, jumping away from the window and tucking her fingers into her pockets. "I was just- I just..."

"Why are you here?" the janitor continued, jingling the keys on his belt menacingly. Laura suspected he was considering making her leave unless she could come up with a good excuse.

"Um, class."

"There are no night classes offered at this college!"

"Except musical ones," Laura continued quickly. "My instructor should be here soon."

Laura looked around for anyone, anyone at all who she could drag into her lie. The janitor raised an eyebrow and Laura thanked the gods of music as she spotted Thomas exiting the theater.

"Thomas!" she called, running up to him and away from the janitor as fast as possible. "I was waiting for you so we could start our lesson!"

"What are you talking about?" Thomas hissed, trying to yank his hand away from hers before he spotted the janitor walking towards them.

"Are you really giving music lessons?" the man asked suspiciously. "The only thing going on tonight was more of those stupid boys-only marching lessons."

Laura could feel Thomas stiffen and she let go of his hand willingly, taking a step back. There was a sudden tension in the air and Laura bit her lip, hoping Thomas would keep his temper under control, reminding herself that he always had self discipline.

"I think you mean practice for the Knights Drum Corps, sir," Thomas said carefully, "And yes, I am giving lessons tonight. Laura is my only student of the evening, however, so there should be no one else to bother you. I apologize for my tardiness."

The last statement was directed at Laura and she apologized again to the janitor, who dubiously nodded and wheeled his mop cart away after pointedly wiping away the invisible fingerprints Laura had left on the glass door.

"If I see her wandering around alone, though, she's out of here!" the janitor called over his shoulder as he turned down a hallway. As soon as the janitor was out of earshot, Thomas dropped the polite smile and snarled.

"Don't make me do that again!"

"I- I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to do! You were the only person I could-"

"Now you have to stick with me the entire night or you're kicked out of the building if that janitor sees you alone. You can't go outside with the boys because then your cover as a boy is blown if he sees you! One little mistake like that could ruin all of it!"

Thomas stood over Laura, who had grown smaller the past few seconds Thomas had been yelling at her, head bowed. The drum major sighed and shook his head.

"Just stay with me and you'll be fine. Unfortunately, this is going to make things a little complicated for what I had to do tonight."

"What were you going to do?" Laura asked softly, afraid to set Thomas off again.

"I have to get a different uniform and you have to come with me."

* * *

Laura stood outside the storage room door, the room where the uniforms were kept during the winter before the tour buses and trailers were rented or brought out of the automotive shop at their home base. Looking around her, Laura felt more and more uncomfortable at being left alone. The walls were old and cracked, lines running through the cement. The storage room doors, about six or seven of them total, were wooden with chipping finish, a single elevator standing dormant in front of her. The floor under Laura's feet was made of brick red tiles, many of them cracked. It reminded Laura of her school's practice rooms and she tried to ignore the sounds of Thomas taking down containers and unzipping uniform bags.

"Thomas?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes?" came the answer several seconds later.

"Why do you need a new uniform?"

"Every year, we turn in our uniforms, regardless of the position we will hold next year. My old uniform fitted me much better last year than the uniform I was assigned this year. Mr. Hamon gave me his keys to this room to come back and get my old uniform."

"Oh, I see," Laura said, although she really didn't understand. She had not tried on her entire uniform yet, only parts of it at different times. She knew her jacket fit and her pants fit, but that was about it. "Why do you need to get your uniform now? Why not wait until spring?"

"It's better to take care of things like these as soon as possible than to put it off to spring training. Even if you were able to find a time to get a new uniform in the spring, you would be too tired to try it on. When it comes time for camp, believe me, you won't be able to move a finger without groaning."

"Is it that bad?"

"You'll find out. If you don't mind, I'm trying to concentrate."

Laura slid down the wall and sat on the ground, recalling the moment after she couldn't finish her push ups in front of the corps and had sat like this outside the theater, hating Thomas and what weaknesses he had exposed. Now, instead of hating Thomas, she was more frustrated with herself that she had caused this problem: she was stuck here until he could get his uniform fitted, keeping an eye out for the janitor. At this rate, maybe it would have been better to risk Andrew outside. Tired of the small scuffling sounds inside the storage room, Laura began to hum to herself, keeping her ears open for the sounds of the mop cart.

"Who's humming?" came a voice, the gruff voice of the janitor. Laura jumped to her feet and looked around her for an escape. There was only one hallway leading to the storage rooms and that was the hallway where the squeak of rusty wheels was growing louder. "Girl, are you back here? I told you I would-"

Angry rather than scared, Laura checked all the storage room doors, finding them locked. Why did she have to make so much noise? Why didn't she think about this earlier, that the janitor would be coming back here to use the elevator? Laura bet one of the storage rooms was actually a room made to keep the cleaning supplies. She could see the shadow of the janitor and his mop cart growing on the wall and Laura escaped into the only room that was unlocked, willing to face the wrath of the drum major than be caught alone by the janitor and getting kicked out of the building.

* * *

Laura sat in one of the corners of the room on a box of shoes, blushing and furious with herself. Thomas was standing in the middle of the room with his half his uniform on, the other half laid out in front of him as he straightened the plume on his hat. The janitor had never peeked in on them, Laura sighing in relief as she heard the mop cart being wheeled onto the elevator and the elevator doors shutting with a clang. Thomas had been startled when Laura had burst into the room, dropping the parts of the uniform he didn't have on yet; all she could do was hide in the corner and hope the janitor had not heard the storage room door click shut, locking behind her. She had sat there the past five minutes, face red, beating herself up inside for being so stupid. Why was it that trouble seemed to follow her?

"Why are you still here?"

Thomas' voice cut through her thoughts and she looked up, startled.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"I never said that. I asked why you were still here."

"Um, I don't want the janitor to come back down here and find me alone. Then he'll kick me out and- You were there, you heard him."

Thomas nodded and picking up his jacket and looking it over. Thomas had marching bibs on, the purest black she had ever seen. The shoes he wore reflected the light from the ceiling lamps, so bright Laura couldn't look at them long. The hat Thomas held was black with one end of the brim buckled to the side of the hat, a large, full plume falling from that buckle to reach the middle of Thomas' back when placed on his head. Gauntlets lay on a box next to him, black with purple and white trim with silver buttons. Laura suddenly had the urge to go and try on her own uniform, but stayed where she was, quiet as to not disturb Thomas any more than she had to.

Thomas pulled on the jacket and tried to reach behind him to zip it up, but flinched noticeably. Again, he tried and couldn't reach all the way to the zipper, biting his lip to keep back the obvious pain. Laura, who had been watching him, stood and walked to Thomas and zipped the jacket up for him, buttoning the top.

"You didn't have to do that," Thomas said, never looking at her as he put on the gauntlets and white gloves.

"I wanted to," Laura said, deciding that was a better answer than saying he couldn't and she had to help him. She guessed the bruise was still bothering him from last week. Sighing, she made to turn around, but Thomas did first and she had to catch her breath.

In front of her was the drum major she had seen from the stands, one of the reasons for joining the corps in the first place: to know more about the mysterious young man who had looked at her for only a moment. The jacket, the top purple, white, and black slanted stripes, was so crisp Laura was amazed she had touched it without ruining it. Silver clasps held two stripes together on the left shoulder and the black of the rest of the jacket matched the black on the gauntlets and pants perfectly. Thomas' eyes, always shifting colors, shone a bright blue and his skin was pale against the black of the uniform. Laura felt her knees shake and, as much as she tried to stop it, Laura couldn't look away. She was spellbound by the sheer power Thomas had at that moment. Watching her watching him, Thomas saluted and Laura gasped in happiness. After standing there for several seconds, Laura realized what a fool she must look like and turned away, forcing herself to sit down.

"What do you think?" Thomas asked, checking the uniform over. There was no mirror in the storage room and the drum major had to rely on her opinion as much as his own opinion. Laura was pretty sure Thomas already knew what she thought, judging by the blush, but muttered it was nice and fit well.

"It's mine, then," the drum major said, taking off the gauntlets and gloves. Laura rushed to him and undid the jacket before sitting back down in her corner. Thomas, pretending not to notice Laura had helped with the jacket, slipped it off and put it back on a hanger. As he took off the jacket, however, his shirt lifted enough for Laura to see the horrible bruise on his side. Her gasp of shock made Thomas stiffen and pull the shirt down as far as it would go to hide the awful wounds he hoped she had not seen.

"Thomas, your back," Laura said, horrified. "It's such a large bruise! How can you even move without being in pain?"

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said coldly, lying through his teeth. If he were to tell her the truth, it hurt every time he moved, but what would he gain by doing that? "It's not painful."

"Oh, Thomas," Laura sighed, shocked at the pity that came from her own voice. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be."

"But I am!"

Laura stood and walked to Thomas without knowing what she was doing, placing a hand on his shoulder. Thomas felt her fingers on his skin and pulled away.

"Do not touch me."

She backed away and Thomas felt a twinge of guilt.

"At least it was me and not you," he added, "And it doesn't hurt as much as the other scars I have."

Other scars. Other wounds. Things that had hurt him in the past that had gone away after leaving their mark on his body. There were scars on everyone, anything from chicken pox to falling off a bike. Thomas knew he wasn't the only one to bear scars from a parking lot brawl, but he was reminded of that night every time he saw them.

"I should leave," Laura muttered, stomping to the door and whipping it open. "I should leave before I do anything else stupid."

"Don't leave, Laura. I have something to tell you."

"If it's to snap at me anymore, I would rather go and meet back with the janitor," Laura hissed, not caring about what Thomas had to say. She couldn't believe she had led herself on to believe he would actually tolerate her. For all she knew, it could just be a trick to keep her there so the directors wouldn't find out he had snapped at her.

"If that is how you feel," Thomas answered, going back to putting away his uniform. He turned his back on her for the third time that evening and heard the click of the door as it shut. "I just needed to tell you how I felt."

How he felt... How much pain he was in after Mr. Deleyney had found him in the parking lot, laying in the snow, his own blood ruining the perfect white blanket that lay over the world.

_"You're so perfect!" Matt yelled mockingly, "Mr. Drum Major! Everyone's leader! You need reality to hit you in the head and bring you back down to earth!"_

_Thomas just stood there, waiting for Matt to finish with his rant and walk away, like he had done so many times before. This wasn't anything new, being annoyed by Matt and his taunts. He had tried to goad him into a fight the week before and it hadn't worked. What made him think it was going to work this time?_

_"You're too perfect! Don't you agree, Andrew?"_

_"Leave me out of this, man!" answered Matt's friend, standing a few feet behind the trumpet player who was challenging the drum major._

_"Matt, go home," Thomas said, voice impassive as he dug his car keys out of his pocket and turned to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow at practice."_

_"No, you're not turning your back on me! You're not backing down from this fight!"_

_"I'm not fighting with you, Matt, and that is final," Thomas retorted, starting to lose his patience. "If you would like to take the matter of my position in the corps to the directors, Mr. Deleyney and Mr. Hamon are still in the building."_

_"I'm not talking to those two idiots about this! I deserved the drum major position fair and square! You took it from me!"_

_Thomas continued to walk away, ignoring the distraught boy and his friend. Matt had done awful in drum major auditions, everyone had agreed. The corps had voted and the directors had had the final say. Matt had lost, Thomas had won. Thomas would therefore join Jake on the podium and Matt would continue to play trumpet. Andrew had not auditioned, merely supporting Matt in his quest to yank the position from Thomas._

_Something hit him in the back, knocking the wind out of him. Thomas staggered and tried to stay standing as he fought to breathe. He felt fists hitting him all over, blood running from his nose. Something sharp went through his sweater and cut his back, not just one cut, but several of them. Thomas fell into darkness as a sharp pain shot through his head. He woke up as Mr. Hamon drove him to the hospital, laying in the backseat with Mr. Deleyney wiping the blood off his face._

_Several stitches were needed to close several of the wounds, including one on his forehead. He was bruised all over and bloody, but nothing was broken. Matt and Andrew had been questioned and they admitted to taunting Thomas, but maintained they had not done anything more than that. No pocketknife had been found on either of them, but it was apparent Thomas had been attacked with one. There was no evidence to prove they had done it, no parking lot cameras to catch the crime, and there was someone who claimed they saw Matt at the local gas station around the same time as Thomas' attack. Mr. Hamon had called the witness a lier and tried to find a tie between the witness and Matt._

_"Probably some uncle Matt had asked to back him up," Mr. Hamon said bitterly. "File a report against Matt! Make this a legal battle!" _

_Thomas, eighteen and therefore a legal adult, had not pursued the matter any farther, refusing to involve the police for fear that the corps would become involved and it would be found out that they were already in debt, a debt that would hurt their chances of ever getting ahead after Robert's accident. Thomas refused to take action, willing to deal with the aftermath of the fight by himself than risk getting the corps in trouble. As it was, this would be another black mark on the corps slate if word got back to the headquarters about the fight. They never found out. _

_Although it had been announced to the corps that Thomas was going to be fine and Matt and Andrew had not been the attackers, everyone knew it was them. They knew Matt had been angry at losing the drum major position, but would he really be mad enough to hurt Thomas? That was crazy. That was unthinkable. Matt wasn't the sort to actually follow through and hurt someone with more than words, much less a sharp blade. Andrew had been shaking and whimpering the entire time, letting Matt do all the talking. Their story was straight and, with the claim Matt had not been seen somewhere else at the time of the attack, it was put to rest. It was history._

_All that was left were the scars._

Thomas sighed and finished putting away the bits of uniform, putting boxes back on shelves and making sure the room was as clean as it was before he came. Turning off the lights, Thomas left the room and walked straight into Laura, who was standing quietly, waiting for him. It was obvious she had felt bad about walking out on him, but pride had kept her from coming back in.

"I-" Laura began, but Thomas cut her off.

"No more apologizes. Just come with me."

Thomas walked beside Laura on the way back to the auditorium to wait for the rest of the corps to finish with their games.

"Thomas?" Laura asked as they entered the quiet theater, "I have a question."

"What would that be?"

"You remember the girl in the bleachers last summer, the one you looked at, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember what she looked like?"

"She looked like you."

_

* * *

There we are... I don't like this chapter, really... I worked for a few hours on it, and it just seemed that the topic was too big to fit into a chapter, almost. Gah... I just felt like now was the time to explain about that big parking lot fight. I'm going to go into detail about it later and explain more about how Matt and Andrew got away with it and why Thomas left it alone, but I just needed to get the general bit down before the readers killed me because I hadn't explained about it yet!_

_Thank you so much for reading and please tell me what you think! I just love hearing back from everyone! Thank you so much! I have a reader promising me fan art, so if you have any fan art, let me know about it! I have done a few illustrations for Hearts Of Glass myself so far, but it's always cool to see what other people see in the story! I'll talk to you all soon! Until then, I'll work on the story some more (hopefully get some homework done!) and explain the story a little more! Thank you!!!_


	36. Unanswered Questions

_Hi! Oh, it's been such a long time, it seems, since I worked on the story last! I wish a Happy Halloween to all my readers (although I'm a day off!) and hope everyone got enough candy and dressed up as their favorite Knight! Hehe... I was actually considering dressing up as Laura or Mr. Hamon, but it never really worked out. I didn't dress up at all; I was so busy with other things that Halloween just sort of flew by._

_Right now, I'm wrapping up classes for my fall quarter and it's so stressful. I'm losing weight and I'm all gaunt right now, but I know things will get better after classes end and I'm off for a day or two! I had so many ideas and thoughts on the story, though, so the next few chapters should be fun. I didn't have any questions from readers to add in this note, so make sure to keep those questions coming: it's fun to answer them!_

_Once again, I'm sorry I'm so late with the chapter and here you are! Onward!_

**

* * *

Unanswered Questions**

Laura followed Thomas down the auditorium stairs to the seats in the front row, forcing her legs to move. Her entire body and mind were in shock. Did Thomas really say that? Did he really say he remembered the girl in the bleachers? Did he think she looked like Laura? It wouldn't be surprising if he though that, considering she was her. Wait, was it she was the girl or the girl- Laura shook her head, frustrated and confusing herself. Thomas took a seat in a chair nearest to the aisle, leaving Laura standing alone.

"Come sit down," Thomas said quietly, glancing at the seat next to him, the seat on his other side. Laura panicked. Should she climb over the seats behind him? Should she ask him to move so she could get past him? What should she do. Laura felt her face turn red, but Thomas didn't seem to notice. Blushing, Laura moved past him, her knees bumping into his. She fell ungracefully into her seat and nervously brushed her hair over her shoulders, beginning to braid it for the sake of having something to do.

"Are you going to cut it?" Thomas asked after several minutes of Laura braiding and un-braiding her hair.

"Oh, my hair?" Laura said, jumping at the whispering quality of his voice, "I'm not sure. Mr. Deleyney hasn't said anything about it. Yet."

"It's not Mr. Deleyney I think you would have to worry about," the drum major responded, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully. "Mr. Hamon has the final say when it comes to field preparation and what's allowed. Your hair won't get in the way of your music. When you march, it will."

"What would be the worst if I kept it?"

"You would have to find some way to hide it under your hat and make sure there was no chance of anyone seeing it. Or you would have to cut it."

"I see," Laura said, remembering how much fun she had had as a drum major for her school, winding ribbons into it and adding jewels before parades. Since she was a drum major and her uniform was feminine, she could decorate her hair and wear make up. This was much different than her old position, before her band had died, before her director left. Now she was a Knight.

Knights didn't have long hair.

Knights were not girls.

"If anyone saw it, it would give you away," Thomas added. "It would give_ us_ away. Mr. Hamon was talking about it the other day."

Laura jumped. They were talking about her? She plucked stray hairs from her hair band and tied off the end of the final braid, determined not to look so nervous. Clearing her throat, she asked why they were talking about her.

"It's about the drill," the drum major said, setting back in his seat and bracing a knee against the seat in front of him. Laura smiled a little to herself; he looked so handsome like that. She found it hard to hear what he was saying the first time he said it as Thomas continued speaking.

"See, Peter- Do you mind if I call them by their first names?"

Laura shook her head no, not finding a single word as she looked at him.

"Peter and Tyler are worried about your place in the drill. We don't want you up front or in any vulnerable position in the drill, just in case something happened to expose you for what you really are. Since the theme is a rescue mission to save a princess from a dragon, there was talk of making you the princess. We don't think that's going to work out, though, because you're a valuable trumpet player and we need you as a performer musically more than theatrically. If they can rewrite a part for you before spring training as the damsel in distress, perfect. If they can't figure out a way to do this, a color guard member is going to be the princess."

Laura imagined one of the guard members in a dress and almost laughed, although it wasn't really funny. What Thomas was talking about were plans that could make or break the corps.

"The problem is that, if they make me the princess in the drill, the judges and officials might get suspicious that I was an actual girl, which wouldn't be allowed," Laura said carefully, Thomas nodding his head. "But, if I'm a regular member, then a guy would have to be the girl and that would be very, um... emasculating. Right?"

"Right."

Laura thoughtfully tugged at the end of her braid.

"Then I suppose the hair stays for now. Just until we have the drill figured out. What else is going on with the show? I looked at the drill sheets and the music, but I never really had anyone else's opinion on it."

"I think it's going to scare the other corps," Thomas said, a smile on his face but no laughter in his voice. "But, it could always be better. Remember that, Laura. Anything can always be better."

* * *

Laura and Thomas talked long into the evening about the show, until the rest of the corps came back from their games outside. Thomas excused himself for the night as Jon came for Laura, glaring at the drum major, Laura rolling her eyes at Jon. Mr. Deleyney took the stage quickly before everyone left, the flurry of coats and mittens and scarfs halting as the music director spoke.

"Our concert is two weeks from tomorrow, so be sure you're ready. Remember, we're going to do a gift exchange, too, since Christmas is coming up! Good game tonight, corps! See you tomorrow!"

Mr. Deleyney winked at Laura as she put on her scarf, Laura smiling back. Mr. Hamon simply looked at her and nodded his head, taking her by surprise. Normally, he pretended she didn't exist past a certain hour of the night. Turning around to grab her jacket from the chair she placed it in, Laura was startled to see Jon there, holding it for her to put on.

"You don't have to help me put on my jacket, Jon," Laura said as he slipped it over her shoulders.

"I wanted to."

Laura laughed and took his offered arm to exit the auditorium.

* * *

"Those two seem to be the best of friends," Mr. Deleyney said with a chuckle in his voice. "Jon is a true Knight!"

"Yeah, so he puts her jacket on her and opens her doors and escorts her to her car," Mr. Hamon muttered, unimpressed. "I've been doing things like that for women since I was a member of The Knights. It doesn't impress me because everyone should be doing that."

"You nodded at Laura tonight," the music director said flippantly, trying to appear innocent. "Normally you ignore her after-"

"What does it matter to you?"

"Don't get so defensive, it was just a question!"

"I don't want to answer questions right now!"

The two directors stood together in silence until Mr. Deleyney spoke again.

"You still don't know what to do about the drill, do you?"

"No," sighed Mr. Hamon, kicking at imaginary dirt on the floor before roughly putting on his jacket. "I don't know what to do. Right now, I just have the part of the princess empty, nothing but a character there. We don't have a person for it. The drill is perfect in itself and there is no way I'm changing a single set; I just need to figure out who is in what role!"

"Can I ask why you wrote the part of the princess?" Mr. Deleyney asked tentatively. "Why not something else? Why not just have the corps battle the dragon instead of adding a rescue mission onto it?"

"Because I wrote the part for someone."

"Can I ask who?"

"Would it hurt if you asked?"

Peter shook his head after he snapped at the music director.

"Just don't bother me about it. I need to figure out what I'm going to about this."

"I respect that," Tyler said, watching Peter walk up the auditorium steps behind the last group of boys, the marching director's arrogant stride reminding him of Thomas and how the drum major always took the podium. There was a contemplative grimace on Peter's face and Tyler called after him.

"You made that part for Laura, didn't you?" Mr. Deleyney called after his friend, hoping for an answer.

"That's why I'm having such a difficult time deciding who to give it to," Peter answered to Tyler's amazement. "Do I give it to the inspiration or the best fit for the part? What if there isn't a difference?"

* * *

"What's the matter, Laura?" Jon asked as they sat in her car, the parking lot lights glowing their usual utility orange, the steam rising from the exhaust pipe as the car ran. The heater was on full blast but it was still freezing inside the vehicle, causing Laura to shiver. Usually, on her ride home she would turn on her stereo and jam to the music, but Laura felt unusually and suddenly depressed.

"Nothing," she said, her voice too sharp, her tone too short. Jon and Laura bit their lip at the same time, Laura holding back a smile as she saw him do the same as her. "I'm just really tired, that's all. And I have a lot on my mind."

"Was Thomas-"

"How did the games go?" Laura asked, cutting Jon off. "Did you win?"

She hoped her smile would distract him from asking about Thomas. She didn't want to talk about the drum major, the silent, shadowy conductor with the piercing eyes. Jon launched into a detailed account of his team's victory over Andrew's team, causing Andrew to launch a snowball into the air at random in anger, the rouge snowball hitting the color guard instructor. After the color guard joined them, the three teams played one large game of tag that ended only when everyone dropped out. Jon proudly announced he had been one of the last ones out, Jake being one of the first. Mr. Hamon had won by entering the game near the middle and saving all his energy until the end, taking out the entire drumline before winning.

Laura listened to him talk, the sound of his voice soothing. He was a good friend, and she was lucky to have him around. She smiled as he patted her hand and told her goodnight before he left and walked across the parking lot to his own car. Jon honked and waved as usual and Laura waved back.

Only after he left did Laura sink into her own thoughts, her questions that had gone unanswered. She had wanted to ask Thomas how he remembered the girl and why he didn't say anything before, especially that day she had talked with him for the first time. Did he even remember talking to her about it? It had been her first day as a Knight, and he had not known she was a girl then. Thomas was clever and quick, but did he know it was her? Did he just not want to tell her?

Her mind spinning with unanswered questions and her frustrating growing, she pulled out of the parking lot and drove home in a daze, hardly realizing how she had arrived in her bedroom until she got there. By the time she usually got home from practice, her family was asleep, the house dark. Laura dressed for bed and slid under the cold sheets, shivering. Before she fell asleep, realizing how tired she really was only as her eyes began to close, Laura could see two things in her mind's eye:

Jon holding her jacket for her, a smile on his face.

Thomas saluting her in his uniform, waiting for her approval.

And she couldn't choose which vision she wanted to continue in her dreams.

_

* * *

There we are! A chapter! Hooray! I hope to hear from everyone and thanks so much for reading!!! The next chapter will not have such a delay on it and there will be many questions answered soon. I hope this chapter makes sense; I feel really out of it at the moment, if you know what I mean, just all woozy and tired, so if anything sounds weird, let me know! Keep the questions coming, too! Thank you, dear readers, and goodnight!_


	37. Christmas Stress

_Hello! I was going to work on For The Love Of Music, another story I'm working on in the marching band section (maybe a few of you have seen it) but decided I was in a "Hearts Of Glass" mood! Mostly I have to refer back to journals and memories for the other series, but I can just make things up and have a little bit of creativity with this story! I just love it..._

_I have a proposition for all you faithful readers! Anyone ever wonder what Thomas looks like, or Jon, or Laura, or any other character? I got the idea from a reader and a fellow marching author, both of whom have been very supportive of this story and my writing. I never really heard of online dolls until a few days ago, but I checked some websites out and thought, "This is amazing!" Problem is, my computer doesn't support many of these awesome websites, so I can't really make the dolls themselves. So, if you love "Hearts Of Glass" or a character in particular, let me know if you make a doll! I just can't wait to see what some of you might come up with! (This is not an author's challenge, writer's challenge, ect... This is something I just thought I would write about if anyone was interested... 'disclaimer here.') If you have any fan art, story ideas, spin offs, ect..., let me know because I have had several readers already tell me of ideas they have had! (Don't do anything or go anywhere on the Internet you're not supposed to, though! It's really not all that important... Hehe...)_

_I have forgotten what question number I am on, so I have to say I'm skipping the usual Question Of The Chapter. This would be the second time in a row, huh? I'm sorry about that, for all those who like the questions. Next time, I promise, there will be a question!_

_Onward!!!_

**

* * *

Christmas Stress **

Mr. Deleyney announced the day after the last winter game that the concert the drum majors and section leaders had been preparing for was to be held three days before Christmas. Everyone was to bring their presents for the gift exchange that day, also.

"We're going to be playing a medley of Christmas tunes and a preview of our summer show," the music instructor told the crowd of Knights in the gymnasium, the group sitting on the wooden floor in a heap. Some of the boys were laying down, some were jabbering, but most were sitting silently facing the front, waiting for Mr. Deleyney to finish so they could start sectionals. Laura sat next to Jon, excited about her first sectional since her wrist accident.

She had gone into the doctor that morning for a check up and was pleased to hear everything had healed properly. As long as she didn't lift anything heavy for a little while, she could take off the brace and practice her trumpet.

"It was a very unique case," the doctor had said as he stretched Laura's arm, pulling the fingers and poking her wrist cautiously. "I've seen people come in with the same exact problem in their wrist, but usually they sustained a severe accident and had a break of some sort. Your wrist didn't break, but the pinched nerve caused the same amount of pain. I doubt you would be able to fall in the particular way that caused this problem again, even if you tried!"

Laura told him he didn't have to worry, assuring him she would be much more careful in the future. After she arrived home, she had practiced her trumpet for hours, her lips buzzing uncomfortably afterwards. Laura was relieved her scale practices had paid off. With only a little bit of work, she could be back where she was before she had to stop playing, her embouchure stronger than ever!

"Now, if you each take a strip of paper from the hat and pass it around," Mr. Deleyney said, gesturing to Mr. Hamon to give the marching hat full of paper bits to the corner of the group and send it around. The marching instructor dropped the hat unceremoniously into the hands of the nearest unsuspecting musician and stalked off to stand behind Mr. Deleyney, in his usual foul mood. "The name you draw will be the person you have to gift before the concert. If you want, leave a little something extra in their instrument case or in a jacket pocket, but come with a reasonably thought out gift for your-"

"This is just like playing Secret Santa from elementary school," laughed one of the mellophone players, taking one piece of paper before sending the hat on it's way. "Only we don't have lockers to put gifts in!"

"Right!" Mr. Deleyney said, excited the idea was catching on. Mr. Hamon rolled his eyes and sighed. "No telling the person you are their "Secret Santa" until the concert! It'll ruin the surprise! Remember to keep the gifts clean, boys!"

"Why would he mention that?" Laura asked Jon, who shrugged.

"I'm guessing someone gave a dirty gift once upon a time and Mr. Deleyney wasn't pleased. Boys are boys, you know?"

Laura bit her lip. There were just some things a girl had to deal with and one of them was the fact boys were gross once in a while. Glancing around her, Laura noticed some of the boys smirking and pointing and whispering. She could almost see the gift ideas brewing in their heads and Laura began to wonder what she would do. She had never shopped for a boy before. What if it was someone who really hated her, one of the Knights who had supported Matt and Andrew? What if it was Andrew himself? What would she get someone who hated her?

Jon picked a strip of paper from the hat and tucked it into his pocket without looking at it, passing the hat to Laura.

"Why didn't you take a look at who you have?"

"Because I wouldn't want to spoil a surprise," Jon said, winking. "You'd better pick a name!"

Laura shut her eyes and felt in the hat for the piece of paper that felt right, the bit of paper she hoped would have someone's name on it who didn't want her kicked out of the corps. Following Jon's lead, she put the paper in her pocket and winked back at him as she passed the hat along.

"We can gift other people, too, right?" asked a boy sitting near the front of the group. "Even if we don't have their name on the paper we picked?"

"I suppose so," Mr. Deleyney answered, a befuddled look on his face. "If you really wanted to, I wouldn't stop you."

Laura could see the boy's back turn, the boy who asked the question, and recognized him as a baritone player. He was a rather nerdy boy with a shock of dull orange hair. She thought his name was Brandon or something; Laura had never really talked to him. She was worried, however, by the smile on his face, the smile he was giving Laura that caused her to blush in embarrassment.

Great, she thought, he's going to gift me in front of everyone at the concert. Just splendid. Turning to look at Jon, she found him looking back at the boy with a raised eyebrow, warning him to stay away. Laura turned even redder and smacked her friend in the shoulder, snapping him out of his defensive position.

"Sorry," Jon muttered with a smirk, knowing Laura had saw him "protecting" her. Laura rolled her eyes much like Mr. Hamon had earlier in the evening and paid attention as Mr. Deleyney spoke again.

"If the section leaders could meet me in the music annex before going to their sections, I will give you the music for the concert. Every musician go to his respective practice areas and wait for your section leaders to arrive with your music. We will remain in sections until the end of practice for the evening. Section leaders, do not dismiss your section early! If Mr. Hamon, your drum majors, or myself find out a section left early, you'll all be doing jumping jacks and laps until the concert."

The group muttered and generally agreed with what their music instructor said. Mr. Deleyney smiled before giving the floor to the drum majors, who stood together, Jake with a smirk on his face.

"On the command of fall out," Jake said, his drum major voice booming in the gymnasium, "Do whatever Mr. Deleyney just said. FALL OUT!"

Laura laughed along with everyone else as Mr. Deleyney pretended to be offended and Jake clapped him on the back lightheartedly, Thomas grabbing the stacks of Christmas music from the bleachers and distributing them to the section leaders.

"Gotta run," Jon said, grabbing Laura's hand and helping her stand. "I'll be back with the music in a bit!"

"Don't run too fast," Laura answered, "You might trip and spill all the music!"

Jon smiled and followed the crowd to Thomas, leaving Laura behind to grab her trumpet. Laura snickered at herself, partly horrified at her own bad humor.

"You might trip and spill all the music?" she asked herself, disgusted. "Why would I say that? I am such a dork... Why would I say that!"

Trying to pretend she hadn't made a fool of herself in front of a friend, Laura brought her trumpet from it's case, polishing the brass on her sweater sleeve. The material of her shirt made the instrument sparkle and she polished it on her way to the practice room, following other trumpet players with a smile on her face.

* * *

"Now that we're warmed up," Jon said, putting his pocket tuner away, satisfied with the scales they had just done, "We're going to take a look at the concert music!" 

Jon passed out the booklets of Christmas tunes, all arranged and stapled together by Mr. Deleyney himself. It contained about ten tunes, a mixture of adult and children's carols. Laura was pleased to see they had her two favorites: "Let It Snow" and "Carol Of The Bells," anxious to sightread the music with the rest of the group on her first sectional.

"First up, Let It Snow!" Jon said, picking up his trumpet and standing in the front of the room, preparing to count the group off. "You know, this looks like it has a really jazzy beat to it. Should we swing it?"

"I don't agree with that," Thomas said from the back, shaking his head. "We should just sightread it and move on. We only have a few days to prepare this."

"But, it'll be fun," said one trumpet player, one of Jon's supporters. "Besides, we all know that the concert is really low key, anyway."

"Not all of us," Thomas growled. "May I remind you we have new Knights in the room, one of which is our section leader?"

There was a silence that fell on the section, an uncomfortable blanket that seemed to smother all thought and sound. What Thomas had just said could have been a general statement, but it could also have been a huge insult to Jon, implying that, because he was new, he didn't know anything about preparing for the concert. Thomas knew what he had said was a dangerous statement indeed, but knew his protections as a drum major and former section leader.

"My apologies, section leader," Thomas said in a soft voice, his face a mask to hide any emotion. He sounded sorry, but didn't look sorry at all. "Why would we want to swing this song, though? We do not know what the other sections are preparing."

"Well, I just thought it would be fun and wondered if anyone else was up to it," Jon said, his voice growing meek as he realized Thomas was gaining more control over his section and leadership than he wanted him to have. Jon glanced at Laura for help and she didn't know what to say. Would she support a friend, no matter how over protective, or the drum major she loved, no matter how many times she told herself she never did and never would love him? Suddenly, everything felt like it was rushing at her at once, all the eyes on her making her dizzy.

"Section leader?" she asked, breathless, "May I get a drink of water?"

Jon nodded and Laura fled the room, her throat tight and head spinning.

She kept sipping water and splashing her face in the drinking fountain a few paces away from the practice room, on edge until she heard the strains of the Christmas song floating into the hallway, jazzed up with a swing beat, like Jon had wanted.

* * *

"Are you okay, though?" Jon asked as he walked Laura to her car, Laura nodding for what seemed to be the tenth time. "You didn't look very well before." 

"I'm fine, Jon," she answered, "I just suddenly didn't feel very well. Stress, I bet, from being at my first real sectional. Sorry for worrying you."

"No problem, worrying is what friends do for one another! Would you like me to sit with you in the car for a bit?"

"Actually, I was thinking on just going home straight away. I'm really tired and I have a lot of tests before Christmas vacation at school to study for."

Laura felt slightly guilty for lying through her teeth, but was determined to get home before she admitted to Jon she couldn't have backed him up back in sectionals. With her conscience being the way it was, she would tell him before realizing it. To be honest, she didn't want to hang out with him in her car that night, or the next night. She wanted space.

"Oh, okay," Jon answered, face falling just a little before he smiled and blew a long stream of hot breath into the air, causing a puff of white to balloon in front of his face for a moment. Laura smiled and wished Jon a goodnight as she watched him walk away to his own car, wishing her a good luck on her test. Jon didn't know there wasn't a test.

As Laura sat in her car, waving as Jon stopped and waved like usual before driving off, she sighed. The holidays were so wonderful, beautiful, but so stressful. Not to mention the added pressure of Jon's friendship and the fact she couldn't stop thinking about Thomas in his drum major uniform. How was she ever going to concentrate while marching if she had to look at him dressed like that? Sighing, Laura dug in her pockets for the keys, eager to turn on the heater. A slip of white paper was stuck between the metal rings of one of her key chains, dangling in disguise as part of her key set.

Laura groaned as she saw the little black letters on the paper.

She was going to have to find a gift for Mr. Hamon.

* * *

_Hehe... Right now, I'm in the process of trying to find a proper gift to my music teachers, so I thought I would add a bit of struggle to Laura's own. I was originally going to have the slip of paper with Jon's name on it, but I thought, "Naw, why do that? It'll add some humor if Laura has to find a gift for cranky Mr. Hamon!" Hehe... I'm going to have fun!_

_Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think! Thank you very much once more and Happy Reading!_


	38. The Christmas Concert

_Hi, everyone! I was sitting at the computer, trying to finish a paper for a college class I have. I just couldn't think of anything and, in an attempt to get rid of writer's block, I decided to write another chapter of this story! That and the fact I was really itching to get a move on to the "concert!" Sadly, I've forgotten a lot of information I put into this story because I've been so busy with other things I need to remember in real life!_

_I had an honor band yesterday. I love honor bands, but this one involved a three and a half hour drive to get there and back and my director couldn't be there! The college the honor band was being held at was beautiful and was also the college I hope to be accepted to! Hehe... Anyway, the conductors gave me a few ideas that I'm going to use in upcoming chapters with Mr. Deleyney and Mr. Hamon. _

_I met Mr. Hamon the other day. Not even kidding you. For those of you who have Winter Drumlines at their school, you all have a drum instructor, right? Well, my band director had to leave for the practice, so he put me in charge of getting the drum instructor all set up for the night. This drum instructor IS Mr. Hamon. He doesn't have the same name, but the personality is nearly exact! So, now I have more of a motivation for Mr. Hamon's character, not to mention a lot of opportunities for new ideas! (Now I know what I'm doing to poor Laura, having him as her marching instructor...)_

_Here you are with the update! I really try and get back to everyone on their reviews, so I thank you all so far who have engaged me in such interesting conversations! Onward!_

**

* * *

The Christmas Concert**

The day of the concert was snowy, clouds hanging heavy in the sky. The forecast had said it was going to be clear and calm, but a wind howled outside the music annex where Laura sat alone. She was picking bits of candy out of her trumpet case, putting each bit back inside the box they had fallen from, vowing never to leave her trumpet case alone for more than a few seconds in the future.

"Hey, Laura," Jake said, entering the annex from the auditorium, surprised. "You do know you don't have to be here until six, right?"

"Yeah, I know," she said, blushing. "To tell the truth, I didn't have much to do at home and thought I could arrive early and help out!"

"Um-" Jake said awkwardly, "How did you know we would be here at three in the afternoon?"

"Because, at my school, someone is always around a few hours before a concert!" Laura said, bits of candy falling from her fingertips as she spoke, cleaning the last bit of candy out of the case. "My own band concert was the other day and I was there early to set up. Thank goodness I did! Nothing was done and it took hours to fix all the problems! So, in the best interest of the corps, I thought I would do that for this concert, too."

"That's very kind, Laura," Jake answered, rubbing the back of his neck, "But I think we have it all taken care of. If you want, you have time to go eat something and come back before everyone else arrives. Where's Jon?"

Laura grimaced a little. She wondered if Jake had asked just to make conversation or if he actually thought Laura knew where the section leader was. She thought of so many sarcastic responses she didn't know what to say, just shrugging her shoulders. Jake nodded and pointed to her case, where there was still candy powder Laura couldn't get out with just her fingers. She supposed she needed a vacuum or something, but wasn't about to go home just for that.

"Oh, someone put candy in my case while I was in the bathroom," Laura explained with a sigh. "I came back and took out my trumpet, not seeing the paper bag of candy. Long story short, the package ripped and spilled most of the candy inside."

"Well, I'm sorry that had to happen," Jake answered, kneeling next to Laura. "I'll find out who did it, if you want revenge or something."

"You don't have to go that far just for spilled candy!" Laura laughed, nudging him. "Besides, what if it was my Secret Santa? I wouldn't' want to find out who that was before we are supposed to!"

"Don't worry, it's not your Secret Santa," Jake answered, taking some of the candy out of the broken package Laura held in her hand and putting it in his mouth. Laura laughed harder than before as Jake made a face and pulled a bit of fuzz from his mouth. "Maybe you need to clean your case, though!"

"Agreed. You really don't want me here, then?"

"It's not that," Jake answered, hesitant. "We want you here. But, maybe not this early. There's a reason why first year Knights weren't allowed at the meeting for the concert. You, as a first year Knight, shouldn't have the surprise spoiled. It's just some boring guys inside the auditorium, setting up boring chairs and boring music stands, telling boring jokes."

"I know for a fact it's not boring, then," Laura commented, poking through the bag of candy for a clean piece. "If it was, you wouldn't be saying it so much."

"Just know this, Laura," Jake said, standing up and making to go back into the auditorium, "You won't be bored when the concert rolls around."

Laura nodded and sighed as Jake entered the theater only to bounce out again.

"Hey, you brought gloves, right?"

Holding up her black gloves, Laura shook them and nodded.

"Good. You'll need them!"

* * *

How is this ever going to work? Laura thought as she looked at herself in the mirror. She couldn't zip the uniform jacket up all the way because the zipper was in back. Even her other uniforms for school groups hadn't been this complicated to put on. At least she could manage the shoes...

"Laura, do you want some help?" called a voice from outside the girl's restroom. Laura guessed it was Jake, the noise outside too much to tell for sure.

"No, that's okay," she answered, sighing in frustration as she tried and failed once again at the zipper. There was so noise, so many loud voices, Laura couldn't tell if the person had said anything else before walking away. All the boys were dressing outside in the annex and in the boy's bathrooms. Laura had the girl's bathroom all to herself, such an empty space when there was so much chaos around her. It was nice for the privacy factor: she didn't have to worry about turning around and scarring herself for life. It wasn't so nice because there was no one to help her get ready. She remembered the mess of her own marching band getting ready, all the jokes and laughter. She and her friends had even taken over a boy's bathroom once because there was no space in the girl's! But, these were not her classmates. Some of them hated her! She just had to do the best she could.

"Laura, are you in there?" asked Jon, knocking on the door leading to the bathroom. She could tell it was Jon because of his knock, the same knock he used to tap on her car window if he wanted to sit and talk.

"No, I'm not," Laura called, stomping her foot as she tried one last time to zip her uniform.

"Okay, then I'm coming in!"

Jon entered the girl's bathroom, looking around, nodding in approval of the pink tiles.

"I've never been in here before," he commented, nodding his head. "Much bigger than the guy's restrooms. You girls are so lucky."

"You think so," Laura said sarcastically, "But you don't know the least of it. As long as you're here, can you help?"

Jon walked over and zipped up the jacket for her, Laura smiling. Finally, now that her jacket was on, she could feel the uniform for what it was, how heavy it was, how it really fit. Jon stood behind her as Laura smoothed the pant legs and the front of the jacket, nodding in approval.

"I like it on you," he said, a grin on his face. "With your hair down, you look really pretty."

"Oh, thanks," Laura said, a bit taken aback. A boy had never really called her pretty before. "I need to braid it and find a way to put it under my hat, though. Could you maybe help me find my hat in that pile over there while I braid my mess of hair?"

Jon rummaged through the pile of clothes, Laura biting her lip as she saw him digging through her things for the hat. Grabbing one of the hair bands she always kept on her wrists, Laura began braiding her hair, trying to keep the three pieces of hair separate. After a few moments, she saw Jon looking at her strangely, the grin that had appeared earlier growing wider. He held her hat in his hands and watched her braid her hair.

"How do you do that?" he asked, holding her hat out to her.

"Do what?" Laura asked as she tried to put the braid under the hat.

"Braid hair? I know it's stupid for me to ask, but could I try doing that with your hair sometime?"

"It's not stupid," she said, frowning. "I've never been asked that before, though."

"Oh, I know I shouldn't have- Just forget it."

"No, it's okay," Laura said, grabbing Jon's sleeve as he made to leave. "You can help me braid my hair someday. It's a mess, just to warn you! My hair might have teeth I've never known about!"

Jon and Laura laughed together nervously. Laura saw thoughts flashing through her head as plain as she saw Jon in front of her. Why would he want to help her braid her hair? What possible reason could he have? Should she even let him? Wasn't that a little creepy? But, he was a friend and friends can confide strange things to each other, so she wasn't about to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he already was.

"How did you know I was in here?"

"Mr. Deleyney sent me."

"Why?"

"To keep you here until the rest of the boys have finished dressing. He said he didn't want a blind trumpet player."

"You're such a dork," Laura commented, laughing with him as she put the final touches on her hat, fixing the feathers. "That's why you're my friend! What did the boys do when they heard that from Deleyney?"

"Threw their shoes at him. We now have a black and blue conductor for tonight's concert."

* * *

"Are we ready, Knights?" Jake called to the group as they stood in lines behind the stage. "Are we prepared to go out there and do our best?"

"Yes, sir!"

Laura shook with excitement. She had never heard such an expectant audience before, so quiet and ready for the music to begin. How many seats were filled? She had not been able to see the inside of the auditorium, Jake and Thomas keeping every Knight out and away from the theater before the show. The Knights had all turned in their gifts to Thomas and Jake before lining up, who gave them to Mr. Deleyney. The music director had brought them into the auditorium piles at a time, anyone's guess at what he planned to do with them.

The drum majors had led the sections to the wings of the stage, the curtain tightly pulled so not a speck of stage light could be seen. Every member was huddled in the dark, breathing heavily, holding their instruments at attention. Mr. Hamon shoved past her and several other members of the corps to get to the drum majors, Laura jolted out of attention.

"Are you ready?" he asked, Jake and Thomas nodding, Jake smiling. "On your command."

"Knights!" boomed Thomas, his voice strong and body stiff. "Step OFF!"

The corps took four beats to mark time, stepping backwards on their right foot on the third beat before marching of on the final beat. One by one, they made it past the curtain and Laura gasped when she saw the theater.

There was no audience. Instead of chairs and stands on stage, there were tables of food, stacks of plates and silverware. Balloons, in all the Christmas colors with the Knight's color purple balloons thrown in, were resting on the table, weighted down by small discount gifts and funny objects, Laura spotting a lawn gnome holding a set of balloons. Gifts, the gifts the corps had given to Mr. Deleyney, lay in a large pile below the stage, right where Laura had sat when she printed out endless copies of music and drill weeks ago. Their wrappings were beautiful, the bows shining. Some of them were wrapped in newspaper with a tag stuck on the front. Some were wrapped so beautifully it would be a shame to destroy all that hard work. But they were all for the members of the corps _for_ the corps! Laura could see her gift to Mr. Hamon in the pile, the wrapping paper covered in reindeer with a large green bow.

"Merry Christmas, Knights!" yelled Mr. Deleyney, who was standing on the stage with open arms. "This is your Christmas Party!"

"There is no concert?" Laura asked Jon, confused. "I thought we-"

"I did, too! But this is a party! No wonder why there were no signs announcing the concert or-" Jon said, laughing hysterically and cutting his sentence short. "All this fuss about the music and we don't even need to play!"

"You're wrong," Thomas said, Laura and Jon falling silent as he walked up to them. There was a smile on his face and Laura couldn't help but smile back, seeing him so polished in his uniform. "We are going to play! Jake's going to make the announcement!"

"Knights, listen up," Jake called over the noise of the crowd as everyone flocked to the food tables, Mr. Deleyney keeping everyone from ripping open the presents. "We're going to go caroling, come back and then dive into the food and gifts, okay? Grab your gloves and scarves! Instruments, too!"

Jake winked at Laura as he stepped down from the table he had been standing on, crunching a bag of potato chips on his way down. Laura grabbed Jon's arm and jumped up and down a few times, excited.

"Jon, we get to go caroling! I haven't been caroling in such a long time!"

Jon raised an eyebrow and Laura stopped jumping.

"Yeah, sorry," she said, "Girl thing."

"Figured," he said, smiling. "I'll go grab your scarf and gloves if you wait here for me, okay?"

Laura nodded and Jon ran off, leaving Thomas as her only company.

"Laura?" he asked, pulling her off the stage and into a slightly secluded corner. "I have something to ask of you."

Thomas reached into a pants pocket and pulled out a little purple box, decorated with a silver box. The box couldn't have been any bigger than her hand and Laura accepted it, stunned.

"Oh, Thomas, you didn't have to get me a gift!"

"I saw you had bought me one, so I don't see the need to apologize for it," Thomas answered, never smiling "It would honor me if you would wear it tonight."

"Wear it?" Laura asked quietly, numb fingers plucking at the foil bow.

"I think you need to unwrap it to wear it, first," Thomas said, a hint of a laugh on his lips. Laura nodded and took a deep breath, taking the bow off and then the paper, laying them carefully behind her on the stage. There was a small velvet box left in her hand and she opened it slowly, gasping when she saw what it was.

A dainty treble clef hung from a braided chain, a tiny purple stone set into the pendant.

"Oh, Thomas, this is one of the most beautiful presents I've ever received! Thank you so much!"

"I thought you would like it. The stone is the same Knight's Purple as part of the uniform, so I thought it would look nice for tonight's party."

Laura looked at Thomas, a smile creeping over her face as well as his. Gently, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, finding no other way to say thank you, forgetting all words. Thomas leaned forward and Laura held her breath-

Woots and whistles came from the stage and Thomas froze, Laura taking a step backward and nearly crashing into the stage. Biting his lip, Thomas nodded to her.

"If you would like, you don't have to wear it."

"I want to," she answered, waiting until the boys who had interrupted them turned back to chowing as many olives into their mouth before Mr. Hamon kicked them outside to carol. She lifted the necklace from the box and handed it to Thomas, turning around for him to fasten it around her neck. Hesitantly, Thomas did so, fumbling with the clasp.

"There," he said, "If you want to tuck it into your jacket, you can."

"I want to wear it so everyone can see it," Laura answered, smiling. "I'm so proud I can wear it! I wouldn't ever hide it!"

"Come on, guys!" Mr. Hamon called, shooing the boys away from the food tables and waving for Thomas and Laura to follow. "We need to be outside now, getting ready! What's going on?"

"Nothing, Mr. Hamon," Thomas answered sharply, turning on his heel toward the marching director. "I'll be with you in a moment."

Thomas excused himself from Laura's presence and followed Mr. Hamon up the stairs, Laura being one of the last in the theater. Jon, passing Thomas and Hamon on the steps, bounced down to her, laughing.

"I now present you with your scarf and mittens. Mr. Deleyney says our jackets will keep us warm enough outside, so we shouldn't take anything else. Considering how hot these things must be in the summer, we're about to see how well they hold up to the cold!"

"Thanks, Jon," Laura answered, pulling on her mittens and wrapping the scarf around her neck as she followed Jon out of the theater and outside into the cold. It was gently snowing, the wind vanished. Through the sparse clouds, Laura could she stars and shut her eyes as snowflakes fell on her face. As the corps walked across the parking lot and down the sidewalk to the first houses on the street, Laura could hear Thomas request a carol to begin with: Let It Snow, Laura's favorite song.

She wondered if he knew that, but didn't wonder to long. As she sang, people standing in their doorway as the corps sang and played their instruments, Laura made sure the treble clef was not wrapped in the scarf. She wanted the whole world to see how lucky she was.

* * *

The party that night lasted until the early morning, Laura finally having to go home because her parents demanded it, calling her cellphone until she gave up and answered, knowing the call was about her broken curfew. The rest of the night was lovely, however, and Laura knew she wouldn't ever forget the look on Mr. Hamon's face as he opened his gift from her: a pair of sneakers.

"Because you always wear sandals," she said, the entire corps laughing as Mr. Hamon smiled and slipped off the sandals he was indeed wearing, trying on the shoes. It was a near perfect fit and Mr. Hamon had thanked her, giving her a genuine pat on the back. Jon had gave her a lipstick and blush, the lipstick such a bright pink that it made Laura jump when she unwrapped it.

"No offense," he had said, "But I think I bought you the worst color lipstick in the world!"

Laura wore it anyway, knowing she looked ridiculous with it on, but made sure to threaten anyone who made fun of her with a large kiss on the forehead. There were many gag gifts, Laura laughing so hard at them that her sides ached. She gave her gifts to Jon and Thomas, Jon getting a pair of gloves with music notes on them, Thomas receiving a small bottle of cologne and tin of popcorn.

"This is nothing compared to what you got me," she had said as Thomas unwrapped her gift to him. "I didn't know if you wore cologne or if you even liked popcorn, but-"

"It's okay, Laura," Thomas had said, "You couldn't have given me anything better, to be honest. I appreciate it all! Would you like to help me start on this popcorn?"

Jake had been her Secret Santa, giving her a great big hug when she opened her gift of hair clips.

"I figured this would be a great way to hold your hair up under your hat when you were marching and a way to look stylish off the field! Girls like stylish, right?"

"We love stylish!" Laura said, "Now I know why you and the candy-"

"I didn't give you the candy, to be honest," Jake answered, "That was someone else. Now, if you would escort this lucky drum major to the food table, we'll stuff ourselves!"

Later, Laura found the wrapping paper and bow Thomas had decorated her gift with, folding the paper and carefully storing everything in her trumpet case. She was approached by the boy with the red hair, the one who had smiled at her the other day before sectionals.

"Did you like the candy? I saw your case out here and decided it would be nice to give you a gift!"

"It was delicious," Laura had commented, thanking him, silently laughing to herself about the irony.

All in all, it had been a glorious night for Laura. She had seen boys run around with bows on their hats, putting as many as possible on the hat before they all lost their stick and fell off. There were so many silly quotes and stupid events that Laura doubted she would ever forget them. Mr. Hamon had surprised Laura with a CD of the summer music she had painstakingly printed out, winking as she thanked him. The color guard joined the corps, the three directors sitting outside the auditorium as the boys (and Laura) had the time of their life.

"Here's to Christmas," Paul said, clinking his paper cup of ginger ale together with Tyler and Peter. They all agreed and sat back in their chairs, letting the laughter from the auditorium wash over them.

This was what being a Knight was about. Sometimes, you just had to have fun.

* * *

_Hehe! I had SO much fun writing this chapter! Gah, it was just great! I hope you all had fun, too! This is the ultimate Christmas party, I think! I like the fact Laura's gift to Thomas was so dorky and his was so elegant! I don't think (no, I know) she wasn't expecting something from Thomas! I just HAD to add in that little bit about the kiss! I couldn't resist, although I shouldn't have!_

_So, I'm happy this chapter is out and you all can read it! I'll answer any and every review that comes in and I wish you all a Merry Christmas (even though I don't like to do anything Christmas-y before Thanksgiving. So, it's a super early Merry Christmas, partly because it's snowing outside right now and I'm in a festive mood!) (And super tired!)_

_Please review and thank you again! Happy Reading! _


	39. New Uniforms, Old Memories

_Hello! Gosh, it seems like weeks since I've updated when it really hasn't been more than a few days. Thank you all for the beautiful reviews and private messages! I'm sorry if I haven't been able to answer back to a few of them, due to the fact I am sleeping a lot. I'm sleeping a lot because I am currently sick. I stayed home from class today and just slept and sewed a little because I felt so terrible. I'll be able to kick this thing off, though, and writing a bit seems to make me feel better! (Except I just totally spilled my tea all over the floor, breaking the coffee cup and getting the computer wet... jeeze.)_

_I saw something in a magazine the other day that kicked off an idea. It's the picture to go on the cover of "Hearts Of Glass!" So, I'm proud to OFFICIALLY announce I am going to pursue publishing on this story! Another author and I were talking a little while ago and I was interesting in publishing then, but now I am spurred on by the fact I am passionate about this story and, judging by the response to the book, a lot of other people like it, too! So, I'm taking a gamble and I'm going to contact a publisher soon on getting this story out to the world in paper form!!! I can't guarantee when you'll have a copy, but I will be sure to keep everyone up to date on what's going on with the publishing! I'm so happy!!!_

_So, here is another chapter! I'm going to work out of Christmas now and continue onto New Years, hopefully working out a few kinks in the story as I go along. I know I really changed the way a corps works (The Knights have nightly practice when actual corps do weekend camps once or twice a month... I'm going to go back and explain why I chose to do what I did later on...) But, this author's note is getting long winded, even for me, so I won't keep you another moment from reading the chapter! _

**

* * *

New Uniforms, Old Memories **

Christmas came and went, leaving the members of the corps exhausted. They only had one practice scheduled between Christmas and New Year's Eve, and even the instructors were not interested in showing up. Many Knights called the directors and pleaded out, leaving Mr. Deleyney and Mr. Hamon with very few members to work with when practice came around. Laura was one of the few who was there and Mr. Deleyney declared the practice unofficial, leaving the Knights to do whatever they wanted as long as it was productive and no one caused any chaos.

Laura sat by herself against the wall separating the auditorium from the annex, braiding her hair. She had arrived in pajamas, baggy pants and a light tee shirt, much like the other boys had arrived in their sleep wear. Jake had told her practice was very informal from now until Valentine's Day and everyone dressed down, Laura thankful that was the case. After the huge Christmas dinner she had eaten and New Years on it's way, she didn't want to have to dig through her closet for something that still fit!

She watched some of the boys walk by and sighed. Jon wasn't there tonight. He had left to visit family members several days ago, spending a week with them, almost five hours away. Her friend had called her the other day to tell her of his absence. Laura's mother had picked up the phone when Jon had called, a confused look on her face as she answered. After she told Laura the phone was for her, her mother covered the receiver and whispered excitedly, winking, "It's a boy! For you!"

Laura had felt the extreme need to apologize to Jon, even though he had not known about the excitement caused by his call.

"Hey, Laura! What's up?"

"Nothing much. How was your Christmas?"

"Great! I'm stuffed!"

Laura had laughed, agreeing with him that Christmas dinner with the family on top of The Knight's Christmas party had been a little too much.

"Listen, I called to say I'm heading out of town tonight. I'm visiting family a few hours away, so I can't make it to the practice coming up."

She had felt more than a little disappointment when Jon had told her this, but wished him a good trip and to give an extra hug to his grandmother.

"Love ya, Laura," Jon had said before hanging up, "I'll be wearing my awesome mittens you gave me! Hope you're not wearing the awful lipstick!"

"Don't worry, I am," Laura said, dreading to think she might have to tell him what he told her. "Um, I love ya, too. Get there safe and get back soon."

After she had gotten off the phone, the entire family had teased her about telling Jon she loved him and Laura had nothing to defend herself with besides saying, "Well, he said it first and it would be rude not to answer, wouldn't it?"

This wasn't fair. Lines should be clean cut, not smudged and blurry. Thomas should be more than a friend and Jon should be no more than a friend. But, so far, she couldn't tell who was what. She had told herself she hated Thomas after what he made her do, embarrassing her in front of the corps just to teach her a lesson, making her do push ups until she couldn't feel her arms. She told herself Thomas would never, ever have a place in her heart, but she kept going back to that memory, that performance during the summer. He had looked at her. Her. Out of hundreds of people that night. Did he know it was her even to this day? Thomas had said, after they were done getting his uniform, that he remembered the girl in the stands and that he thought she looked like Laura. But, did he know and just wasn't telling her? Was she waiting for her to tell him? What if-

"Laura, are you alright?" asked a voice, exasperated. Laura jumped and messed up her braid. Realizing it was Mr. Hamon, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow, Laura got to her feet and stood at a poor attention, fidgeting.

"You don't need to jump up, but as long as you're standing here," Mr. Hamon said, an amused look on his face, "You can come help me with something."

Waving for her to hurry up, Mr. Hamon waited Laura tried to grab her shoes, but she gave up after she guessed they were not going outside. If they were going outside, Mr. Hamon would tell her, wouldn't he? Laura padded along behind him as Mr. Hamon led the way through hallways and down flights of stairs. Just as she started to get a stitch in her side, Mr. Hamon stopped in front of a beat up storage door, a door that was very familiar. Looking around her, Laura realized they were back in the land of red tiles and junky storage rooms, Mr. Hamon unlocking what would be the uniform room. Recalling her evening down here hiding from the janitor and watching Thomas try on his uniform, Laura grinned.

"What are you looking so happy about?" Mr. Hamon asked, Laura wiping the smirk off her face and trying to banish the thoughts of saluting drum majors from her head. Laura shook her head and shuffled from side to side as Mr. Hamon struggled to get the key from the lock and then get the door open, letting out several mumbled swears before apologizing.

"Have you ever been down here before?"

"No," answered Laura, too quickly for her own good.

"Well, you're here now. You're going to help me with the colorguard uniforms. The instructor should be down here soon to help us."

"What are we doing with the uniforms?"

"If you're quiet, I'll explain."

Laura fell silent and slid across the floor in her stocking feet to sit on a box while Mr. Hamon paced the racks of uniforms, fingers tapping his chin as he looked for the right uniform bags. Laura realized she was sitting on the same box she had sat on before when Thomas had brought her down here and happily stomped her heels on the floor.

"Don't do that," Mr. Hamon snarled, "It's bad for your feet."

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to your poor feet."

Laura bit her lip and tried to tell if he was serious. He sure sounded serious, that angry look on his face when he really meant something apparent as he zipped and unzipped uniform bags. Just to be on the safe side, Laura muttered a quick apology to her feet and remained silent, Mr. Hamon smirking a little as he heard her.

"I wasn't serious."

"Oh. I apologized anyway."

The marching instructor shrugged as Laura answered him. She was about to open her mouth to say something else when the door flew open, nearly knocking her off her chair. The colorguard instructor burst into the room, several large boxes on a cart behind him.

"Hello, Peter! I've brought the uniforms!"

"What do you mean you've brought them?" Mr. Hamon asked, frowning as he stomped away from the racks and to the cart, Laura jumping off her box and into the nearest corner as Mr. Hamon's fury could be felt radiating from him.

"I mean I brought the colorguard uniforms," Paul answered, gesturing to the boxes behind them. "I had them and they needed to be counted, recorded, and put away. Now we're here to do that."

"You imbecile," the marching instructor muttered. "If you had them upstairs already, we could have just sorted them there instead of down here!"

"Ah, but we wouldn't have been able to put them away before-" the colorguard instructor stopped talking as he could see Mr. Hamon turning various shades, mostly red. "Um, we'll just take care of them quietly down here, though. No problem, right?"

"The one night I forgot pain killer," Mr. Hamon muttered, rubbing his forehead, "You give me a headache. Whatever."

"Are you leaving?" Laura asked as the marching instructor disappeared out the door. Laura followed him, skidding on the slippery tiles, until she could see him walking down the hallway toward the nearest flight of stairs.

"Yes. You can help Paul put those things away. Hopefully he won't leave you down here when you're done."

This was said very sarcastically, but Laura bit her lip as she resigned herself to the fact Mr. Hamon was now in a bad mood and she had to help the colorguard instructor instead of lazing around upstairs while the rest of the boys did nothing. Walking dejectedly back into the storage room, she grabbed the end of a box Paul was having problems carrying off the cart.

"Hey, how are you?" he asked, setting the box down and dusting off his hands. "I'm the colorguard instructor. You can just call me Paul."

Laura shook the outstretched hand and smiled as Paul smiled back. He seemed like a very cheery person, not at all like Mr. Hamon, and for that Laura was grateful.

"I'm Laura!"

"Hi, Laura! I haven't gotten to really meet you before now. It's a pleasure."

"Same here."

"Our task tonight is to take these boxes of old colorguard uniforms and organize them. We sort them out, look for any rips or tears, put them into a database, then decide what we're going to keep or sell or toss."

"I see," Laura answered, although she really didn't understand. "What should I do first?"

"I'm going to give you the task of finding broken uniform parts and entering numbers into the database."

"Oh, goody," Laura said unenthusiastically as Paul slid a box off the cart, the contents of the box jingling together. "Why are the uniforms in boxes? Why was Mr. Hamon looking on the racks?"

"He was looking for the new uniforms, which are right here," Paul answered, kicking a box, which rattled again. "Wait until you see them! They fit with the theme beautifully. Can you guess what they are?"

"Um, well, I suppose they would be knight's costumes, right?"

"Right and wrong at the same time," Paul said. He was almost too pleased with the guessing game and Laura was instantly reminded of Jake by the almost childish personality. "They're not the knights uniforms you wear! They're actual knight armor!"

Opening one of the boxes, Paul pulled out what was a lightweight jacket meant to represent chain mail. In other boxes were breastplates, helmets, and other knightly materials, all in plastic or cloth, depending on which item went where. Laura smiled and nodded her head.

"You're right. It fits perfectly with the theme!"

"What do you say we get to work, Laura? It'll be fun!"

* * *

The process actually went quite fast, faster than Laura thought it would. Marking the uniforms with numbers was the instructor's job, carefully labeling everything before telling Laura what to enter on the laptop. Laura, working on the spreadsheet, typed in the numbers faithfully before getting up to help Paul place each part on a hanger and in a uniform bag. When they were done, there were two full sheets of information on the computer and a rack and a half of colorguard uniforms, one full "suit of armor" per bag. 

"We did a good job," Laura said, putting her hands on her hips and nodding her head. It had almost felt like she was back at school for a moment, packing up all the uniforms to be shipped out of the school after the marching program died. The happy moment became a bitter moment as Laura recalled the pain she had felt packing away uniforms, never to see them again on the streets, in a parade.

"What's a matter?"

Paul turned a warm eye to her and looked concerned. Laura sighed and shrugged, turning away.

"It's nothing."

"It's gotta be something," Paul answered, watching Laura slump onto the box near the laptop, face fallen. "We were having such a good time and you're all of a sudden upset. And don't just tell me it's nothing because I can tell it's something."

"Organizing uniforms like this," Laura said softly, waving to the racks of cloth and polyester and plastic. "It just brings back so many memories of when my school's band program died. I was one of the few who actually packed up the uniforms and I was the only student. I was also the only one who cried when I put the last uniforms in the last box and put the tape on the top myself."

"What happened to the marching program that you had to sell the uniforms and give all that up?"

"Our director quit. The school didn't want to deal with a marching program anymore, especially since it had been suffering for years and never taking anything except gas money sports teams needed. We didn't even sell half the uniforms. I don't know where they went to."

"Everything went?"

"Down to the last shoelace. We all had to turn in our uniforms. I couldn't save anything, buy any part, or even steal anything as a memento. My entire drum major uniform was packed away, too."

"That must have really hurt."

"It did. It still does. I try not to think about it."

Paul leaned against the wall as Laura shuffled her feet, the socks scrapping against the tiles with hardly a whisper of sound.

"You know, I was going to put this off until another night, but seeing that we still have a whole hour and a half before practice is 'officially' over with, I'm going to go get the box out of my car and bring it down here. You might find something in there interesting."

"Do you need any help?"

"No, you just wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Laura sat quietly as Paul left and was still in the same spot, shuffling her feet, when Paul came back, lugging such a big box Laura felt guilty for letting him get it alone. Dropping it on the floor, Paul stretched his back and smiled.

"I order from different companies who get throwbacks and rejects and donated uniform parts. It's so cheap, a good things considering the financial situation the corps is in right now, and we can cannibalize these uniforms to work with our current uniforms. I have a few more boxes in my garage at home I'll bring here one of these days. Open this one."

Sitting tentatively on the ground, Laura opened the box and gasped. There were beautiful colorguard parts inside, most of them made for young women. There were several pairs of shoes, all of them different colors and styles and brands. But, most of all, there was a familiar uniform part inside the box Laura had not seen since the night her marching band died.

A hat. It was beaten up, the felt scratched, the plastic broken, only half the feather left. But it was one of her school hats just the same. Picking it up as though it would break, Laura was numb. It had no number on the inside and it was not her old hat, but it was a hat she had probably packed away herself, sending it to an uncertain fate.

"It came back to you," Paul said, smiling wider. "You can keep it, along with all the girl colorguard parts. Since we're supposed to be an all male corps, I can't use them and it's tough reselling them since they're so assorted and usually in tough shape. Take what you want."

"Really?" asked Laura, hardly comprehending what was going on as she placed the hat on her head. Paul nodded and Laura began digging through the box. As Paul watched her sort through the items with a grin on her face, something caught his eye.

"Put that aside, Laura. I want you to try that on later. It might work for something."

Paul realized he had the makings of a princess costume and quickly left the room, in search of Mr. Hamon and Mr. Deleyney. They had to see this.

_

* * *

There we are! I wanted to keep going, but I thought I would leave the princess uniform for another chapter! The whole box idea just crept up on me out of nowhere and I really wasn't planning on talking about Laura's marching band, but I did. Funny the way things work out. _

_Anyway, thank you so much for reading and I hope to hear from you! I love comments and I'm always going to try to answer back! Any thoughts/ideas/concerns? Bring 'em to me! I'm always pleased to hear from my readers and friends! I'll update soon and try and kick off this cold (I'm back with another cup of tea; hopefully I won't spill this one!). Thank you so much for reading and I'll start working on another chapter when I either reach my predetermined "hit" mark or review mark. (It helps me time when my next chapter comes out due to demand for an update! I think about those things! Hehe...)_T


	40. Not A Princess

_Hello, everyone. Sadly, this is not a bright, cheery author's note like I had hoped it would be. I have not had more than a handful of rather rude reviews or private messages since "Hearts Of Glass" began, and all of them have been resolved, and for all the reader support, I thank you! I thought I would take a few moments to say something._

_I understand I am not the best writer around. I'm not a Tolkien, a Frost, or a Shakespeare, but I do work hard and put a lot of thought and effort into my stories. I do not mind, in fact I even support, my readers to call me on anything that is wrong or confusing about the story, but there is always a line to be crossed. A reader only crosses that line if they attack me. I was fine about a reader calling out potential problems and mistakes in my writing and places where she felt it went wrong. I support that awareness and was thrilled she spoke her mind and told the truth. But, there was a personal attack in that review, an insult added to injury... I do not take well to 'better than thou' comments. I only accept reviews concerning the story, not myself. If you attack me, I will block you as a user and ignore your future comments. If you call this story one of the worse or _THE_ worst story you've ever read, I'm fine with that because that's your opinion and I admire your ability to speak your mind. But, the moment you drag me into the complaint, insulting me without any reason other than the fact you do not like my story, I will not accept that as a review. That is an attack. _

_To all my faithful, yet slightly-fed-up readers, I thank you for hanging on with the story. I am well aware there are a few nicks that need to be straightened out, but I was not anticipating the story growing so large. Please continue with your patience and I will satisfy your curiosity about the plot and/or characters in the near future. Judging by how fast I update, the story should end within the next month or two. No joke, so by then you'll have all your answers. I always thought part of the fun of reading a story was waiting for the next part, to add another piece to the puzzle, but I understand the frustration and apologize for it. Keep hanging in there and I promise you'll be happy._

_I'm now ending the Question Of The Chapter, starting with this chapter, and might add a bit of information on the characters per chapter in the author's note. So, if you've always wanted to know something about a particular character you would like me to add in, please let me know and I will be happy to oblige._

_So, to end this rather long note, I respect the review left to me and I will not mention it anymore, but I felt it was something I needed to briefly write about because it was bothering me and I would like people to know where my limits are on reviews vs. attacks. I will never attack you for what you believe! I also wanted to let my readers know how much their support means and I hope this note is in good taste and no personal offense is meant to any party. (Thank you to everyone who wished me luck on publishing and to get well. I'm feeling better and I'm taking several steps forward in the publishing process already.)_

_Now, without further delay, your chapter!_

**

* * *

Not A Princess**

"So, what do you think?"

"It's beautiful!"

"It's a mess..."

The three directors stood outside the storage room as Laura changed out of her costume, Mr. Hamon pacing back and forth in front of the door. Paul shrugged as Tyler leaned against the wall, watching Peter pace.

"I think it looked nice," the colorguard instructor said, "The color was a little off, but I think it looked good on her!"

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter about the color," Tyler said, giving Paul a sympathetic look. "The uniform could be lime green and still look nice. It's just a bonus it's purple and would match-"

"Almost match," corrected Peter.

"-almost match the corps uniforms," Tyler said, accepting the correction. "It matters that, the moment Laura steps out onto the field in that, they'll know. They'll know our secret. Even though Laura doesn't look much like a girl when she's in her uniform with her hair up, it'll be obvious if we dress her up like a princess."

"But Peter wrote that part for Laura, didn't he?" Paul asked, frowning. "He wrote it for Laura."

"I wrote it thinking of Laura," Peter said as he touched the wall with the tip of one shoe, the shoes he had gotten for Christmas, before spinning around on one heel and pacing the length of the floor once more. "I shouldn't have been so stupid."

"Hey, it wasn't stupid. You wrote the drill from the heart," Paul answered, smiling. "We all know you do things like that everyday, getting so sentimental as to think of a princess in distress."

Peter shot him a dirty look and Paul smiled wider. Teasing the marching instructor was one of his favorite things in life.

"Look, the part was made for Laura, but things got carried away and now we're talking about putting her on the field in a colorguard costume?" Tyler asked, waving a hand through the air. "I think we need to deal with a few problems right now before we go any further into the program. There are some things we need to take care of."

"Can't they wait until spring training?"

"Peter, you know as well as I do that spring training will be too late. There is so much to do and I'm not going to add any extra stress onto an already stressful point in time. Now that it's winter, we'll be cutting the practices back and that gives us very little time with the corps as a whole until spring. I am not going to let loose strings choke us in the end, especially since we have worked so hard already to keep the corps going."

There was silence as Paul and Tyler glanced at one another, Peter continuing his pacing, footfalls heavy on the brick red tiles. Tension hung heavy in the air like a dampness, digging into the skin, piercing the bone, causing unease in the heart.

"Remember when we didn't have to worry about this?" Tyler said, crossing his arms across his chest. "Remember when everything was clear cut and nothing went wrong?"

"Do you remember when we didn't have to dodge around secret letters and kick members out of the corps?" Peter added, pausing in his pacing to look at Paul, who looked away.

"I remember a time when we wouldn't have guessed anything like this would have happened, not even in our wildest dreams," Paul said softly, "Or in our darkest nightmares."

"I'm not sure this is a nightmare-"

"Tyler, take a look around you! It's a nightmare!" Peter said, snapping at his colleague. "We had to deal with the death of a corps member, a court case, losing our respect and financial security, and going behind the organization's backs and accepting a female member into an all male corps! To make it worse, we had to kick out one of our best players, keep an eye on our lead percussionist to keep him from killing the other members, settle a brawl, and now answer a question that shouldn't be as hard to answer as it is!"

"What's that question?"

"That question is whether we put Laura in the spotlight and raise the risk of being found out for the lying scoundrels we are or if we re-write the drill."

Paul shook his head, eyebrows furrowed.

"Peter, you said you wouldn't re-write the drill. You said it and we don't want you to. You put a lot of effort into it and the show is brilliant! I'm not going to let you go back and 'fix' the show because every single year you 'fix' it, that means more work for everyone."

"Then we have to decide now how Laura is performing," Peter answered, standing next to Tyler, kicking his heels against the wall. "Is she a princess or a knight?"

* * *

Laura sat in the storage room, shaking. She had changed out of the beautiful colorguard dress she had worn for the directors and was twisting and pulling at the fabric with nervous fingers. The marching hat that had come back to her after all the time apart lay on the floor at her feet. Laura couldn't bring herself to pick it up, as if doing so would admit she was sinking back into another world, into a memory she wanted to forget. She remembered her directors arguing like this during the final marching season at her school, those heated discussions in the band office. It brought back a rush of memory and emotion and Laura hated herself for being so weak as to even think about acting on those feelings. She wanted to run out of the room, to scream back, to put on a bright smile and pretend they were not arguing about her just outside the door.

She did nothing but wait until the arguing stopped and there were quiet words exchanged. After several minutes of fighting, the few noiseless moments set Laura's nerves on edge. Her fate had been decided but she didn't yet know what that decision was.

"Laura, we have something to talk about," Mr. Deleyney said softly, cracking the door open and waiting for her to look him in the eye before he walked into the room. Mr. Hamon and Paul followed, standing together next to the door as the music instructor walked to Laura and knelt down in front of her, reaching for her hand. Laura pulled her hand back and Mr. Deleyney accepted that gesture, moving away several inches to give her space before he continued.

"We have decided to alter the drill to exclude the princess. Instead, there will just be a 'captive.' It's not necessarily what we want, but, given the circumstances, it will have to do. We would still like you to be the 'captive' if you are interested, but that would involve full corps uniform and performance on trumpet."

Mr. Deleyney raised his eyebrows, waiting for her response, a smile on his face to help ease the disappointment. Laura's voice cracked and she cleared her throat.

"I have something I need to talk about with you, too," Laura said to Mr. Deleyney, the other two directors listening in carefully. "It was luck I came to auditions. Pure chance that you actually needed a girl. I didn't know what was going to happen if I was accepted or when you would find me out or what the consequences would be. It took a little while but, after you found out about who I was, you began calling me a princess. I was the princess in the company of Knights. Until now, I've been happy with that title, sheltered, secured. I've felt like a true princess."

Mr. Deleyney smiled wider and Paul nudged Mr. Hamon in the shoulder, the marching director never looking up, head bowed. Laura's fingers tightened around the fabric before letting the colorguard uniform fall to the ground, slipping off her knees to fall in a soft puddle of cloth before Mr. Deleyney. His smile faded as Laura continued.

"But, now that I've come to think about it, I realize I don't belong here. I'm a stranger, a foreigner, and I shouldn't be here. You know that as well as I do. I shouldn't be here. There are going to be problems this spring and this upcoming season, not just on the field, and I don't want to have to drag anyone into any more trouble."

"Laura, you just heard what we were arguing about outside," Paul said, jumping to Mr. Deleyney's side. "We're sorry you had to hear that, but we're willing to take those risks if it involves getting the corps back to where it was before Robert's accident."

"I'm being used," Laura said carefully, not a trace of malice in her voice, a twinge of sadness instead. "I'm being used to get this corps back to where it was before the accident that cost the corps it's money and respect, just like you said. Next year, granted all goes well, I won't have a spot here. I won't have a place reserved for me like the other boys."

"There are no spots reserved for anyone," Mr. Deleyney said, biting his lip. "Everyone auditions again and again, year after year. Its-"

"Thomas has been marching with this corps for years. He's two years from aging out and he's set a record as the youngest Knight ever accepted! He's a drum major and probably will be until he's aged out! Jon is new to this, but his heart is in it and I know he'll have a spot in the corps next year because he's already a section leader and this is his first year! You see that talent and dedication and determination and it helps decide who stays and who goes. I just can't help but think if I would have been accepted if Mr. Hamon hadn't found me out so early."

"Laura, it's normal to have those doubts and emotions, but don't let that bother you," Paul said, smiling wide, shrugging his shoulders. "It's all going to be okay! We're fixing the problem and you're still a princess in our hearts!"

"That's the problem!" Laura said, her voice ringing against the storage room walls with an unnatural tone. "I don't want to be your princess, the girl you have to protect, love, admire! I don't want to be protected or loved! Looking back on everything I let go, everything I let slide past me, I'm embarrassed. I played the perfect part of a silly teenage girl who was happy she was around boys all day! I messed up marching because my head wasn't in the game and I never even realized I had such little respect until this put it into perspective for me. This princess part! I hate it now! Even if you wanted me to do it, I wouldn't! I can't act like a girl anymore!"

"You're a teenager! You have a developing mind, body, and view of the world! You have to be a girl because it's only natural," Paul argued. "We'll help you protect that sweet side of you for when your run with the corps has ended."

Everyone in the room, including Paul himself, instantly knew that was the wrong thing to say. Laura shifted her shoulders, fighting back the fury inside her.

"So, since I'm a girl, I should be sugar, spice, and everything nice? I should let you protect me from the mean boys and allow myself to frolic with the good boys? I should let you dress me up and put me on a pedestal and use me until you're done with me, all in the forethought of protecting my femininity after my 'run' with the corps is done? How dare you? I think what I want to think and you have no business messing with that. My body is my business, also, and I've managed to disguise myself when needed, blending in with the rest of the corps! My view of the world revolves right now around the idea that men are overprotective and power hungry, thinking one thing and saying another!"

With that outburst, Laura stood up and walked to the door, Paul stepping aside as Laura's hair whipped his arm. She grabbed the door handle and looked back before leaving.

"Let me figure things out on my own! I'm not your princess! I'm not even a female anymore! I'm a number, a dot on a drill page, just another member on the field! Let it be like that instead of causing all these problems to just to accommodate what you think I am and should be. I won't be staying for the rest of practice."

The door clicked shut behind her with all the purity of a bell, that sound oblivious to the outburst that had just happened, causing a surreal moment in which everything appeared to be a bad dream. Paul pinched his own arm and slumped down onto the box Laura had just been sitting in before she left them in anger, picking up the marching hat she had forgotten. Or had she left it on purpose? He didn't know, but it hurt either way that his gift to her would be rejected so harshly. Mr. Deleyney, mouth open, leaned on his hands and put his full weight on his knees, the perfect example of a man who just realized his world was now changed and he would now have to pick up the pieces.

"The worst part is," Mr. Hamon said, pushing himself away from the wall with a sneakered foot and turning to leave, "We know every word of that is true."

* * *

Laura grabbed her coat and trumpet after pulling her gloves on, hardly able to see through the haze of anger. She wasn't crying. She was shaking, but not crying. Since she couldn't act like a girl anymore, she couldn't cry. At this point, Laura didn't even want to act like a person. People had feelings and feelings were what she hated at the moment. Feelings were what hurt. Hastily putting on her jacket and slipping her shoes on, Laura grabbed her trumpet case and hurried toward the parking lot. The doors leading into the cold wind and freezing snow were so close... She could almost feel that chill wind taking her anger away, diminishing the fire raging in her soul.

"Laura! Where are you going?"

She bit her lip and kept going, nearly running toward the exit, pretending she didn't hear him. She didn't want to talk with Thomas right now, not knowing what words might slip out of her mouth and ruin the tremulous relationship they had. She could hear footsteps behind her and a hand grabbed her shoulder by the time Laura's hand had reached the door handle, fingers grasping the smooth metal, clinging to a hope she might still get away.

"You don't look very well. Did something happen?"

Laura stayed facing the door, refusing to open her eyes until she could draw a breath. Her chest felt like giant rubber bands had wrapped themselves around her and were slowly squeezing the air out, preventing her from taking another breath. Finally gasping for one solid gulp of air, Laura opened her eyes to see Thomas reflected in the glass behind her, his hand on her shoulder. He was so pale in the light coming from the florescent bulbs in the ceiling, his skin just as white as hers was. Her dark hair had fully escaped from it's braid and fell around her shoulders, wrapping around her neck, hanging in a dark sheet to her waist. Laura couldn't stand to look at herself, she felt so sick at the sight of her reflection, but couldn't bear to look at Thomas and see the compassion in his eyes. Months ago, she never would have thought Thomas would have shown any emotion, much less around her. And so she shut her eyes again.

"Laura, what's wrong?"

Laura shook her head, feeling the anger and misery build by the second. Then, just as soon as she thought he would leave her, she felt arms wrap around her, pulling her close to a warm body. The touch was tentative and stiff, but it held so much more comfort for her because of it. Dropping her trumpet case, Laura turned around and let Thomas hold her, taking deep breaths now that the rubber bands had loosened. She could cling to him for just a moment longer until she had to break his heart... As well as her own.

* * *

_Wow, harsh chapter! I think this was so emotionally packed I would really hate to be Laura right now! I'm happy Laura is stepping up for herself and trying to correct the wrongs, but I'm so sad for what has to happen next! Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger, guys. I just think the chapter went on a little too long and that the next chapter will be really great in terms of development! Even though things look so dark for the instructors, Thomas, and Laura especially, the sun always comes out! Just a little more angst until Laura can be strong enough to build a new way of life. _

_Thank you very much for reading and please tell me what you think! I accept any thoughts/feelings/comments on the story and I will always encourage and respect those comments! Thanks again and I'll try and have an update soon! Happy Reading!_


	41. Future Plans

_Hello, everyone! For some odd reason, I'm not getting alerts on reviews, so I'm trying to check if I've replied to everyone who has reviewed! If I haven't replied to you, I'm really sorry! Thank you for the continued support and I am just so thrilled to have such involved readers. I was going to wait for a little while to update, but I figured I could get one in by Thanksgiving! _

_Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers! Go out there and eat plenty of turkey, cranberries and apple cider! I personally love Thanksgiving because of all the great smells, but it always seems to sneak up on me. Holidays do that more often, it seems. _

_As I said before, Chapter Forty was the end of the Question Of The Chapter (mainly because I keep forgetting what number I'm on and the questions have been mostly about characters...) and the beginning of character explanations. Remember, if there is anything you would like to know about a character, just let me know! I think I'm going to start with the instructors in the next chapter..._

_Here we are with another chapter! A word of warning, I might not be updating as frequently the next week or two. Everyone needs a little bit of a break, especially if there is added stress, so you might see a few of my other stories popping up with updates... Thankies and here we go!_

**

* * *

Future Plans**

Laura dropped her car keys into her purse, dumping the purse on the bed as she walked into her room. Like usual, her whole family was asleep when she arrived home from practice, and the house was dark and quiet. Fumbling for the light switch, Laura gave up after several seconds of groping around and made her way through her room to her bedside table, turning on the lamp. The lamp threw soft shadows and dim light across the walls and ceiling, creating a warmth Laura didn't notice as she sat on her bed and ran the night's events through her head.

She couldn't believe what had happened. Laura had expected the night to go so well, a pleasant time with pleasant company, never guessing that night was to be her last as a girl in an all male corps. She knew it had to happen sometime, that she was going to have to stand up for herself and set some rules, not only for herself, but for others as well. Why did it have to happen now? Reaching for her hair and weaving a few strands around her fingers, Laura sat in silent thought for several moments before realizing what she was doing. Her hair, that damn mop of dark mess that hung around her like a haze, protecting her from the outside world. It was indeed her protection. She liked long hair, liked how she could use it as a pillow and brush it out until it shone and felt just right. It was a comforting weight on her shoulders and tickled her arms and waist when a breeze blew.

Opening the top drawer in the bedside table, Laura felt around until she found the cold, smooth metal and plastic handle of a scissors. Holding it in her hand, Laura grabbed a section of hair and shut her eyes. One snip. That was all it took to start the process, to get rid of her old self, to create someone new... To destroy the princess everyone still saw. But, the closer she felt the scissors get to her hair, the worst Laura felt, until she felt physically sick as the sharp metal edge met dark hair. Shaking, Laura opened her eyes and let the scissors fall from her hand. Seating herself in the middle of the bed, Laura looked at the purse in front of her. She had been so thrilled with the fact she could carry a purse around after everyone found out who she was. Now that had to stop. It was back to putting everything in her instrument case or stuffing it in a pocket like everyone else did. If she hadn't left her instrument in the trunk of her car, Laura would have cleaned out her purse right there and taken another step to losing what identity she had as a young woman.

Laura, already wearing something comfortable enough for sleeping in, turned off the lamp and tossed her purse off the bed, angry with herself for doing that after she heard her car keys escape the confines of the purse and skitter away into the dark. Wrapping the comforter snuggly around her, Laura tried to settle in and ease her mind. There was a wisp of pressure on her throat and Laura realized she was still wearing the necklace Thomas had given her for Christmas. Did she take it off or leave it on? Sighing, Laura wondered what right she had to wear it anymore, after what she had said to him. It had been a gift, so she had every right to still keep it, but to wear it, especially around him?

Pulling the chain to turn the clasp so she might reach it easier, Laura undid the chain around her neck, carefully reaching over to place the necklace on the bedside table. The purple gem, so small and glittering, disappeared as Laura closed her eyes for the last time, falling into a restless, guilt ridden sleep.

* * *

"Just coffee," Tyler said, waving his hand past his ear as the waitress took his order, the music instructor scratching at his head nervously. Paul ordered a soda and Peter sipped his beer he had bought at the bar, the waitress shrugging when Peter ignored her question of what he would like to order. As the clack of her heels faded away, the directors sighed and refused to look each other in the eye. The din of strangers talking away in the restaurant, oblivious to anyone else's cares and concerns, gave an excuse to keep quiet. The sounds of other conversations took their minds off the conversation they would have to have before the end of the night.

The waitress came back with the coffee and soda, Paul fishing an ice cube out of his glass with the spoon he had taken off Tyler's saucer. Chewing the ice nervously, Paul ignored the look of distaste Peter gave him and handed the spoon back to Tyler, who stirred his coffee thoughtfully.

"Might as well get this over with, huh?" Tyler asked, "I find it interesting how we all met here without a word to one another. It seems we just know where to find one another and where-"

"Tyler, let's just get it over with, like you said," Peter snapped, "No use prolonging the inevitable."

"Unusually philosophical of you," said the guard director, swallowing the last bit of ice cube.

"One of these days I'm just going to hit you. You won't know why, but I'm going to."

"I'll be waiting."

"You two, that's enough," Tyler said, frowning. "I thought we were having enough problems as it is, but the fighting has got to stop between you two."

Paul and Peter exchanged a look that was satisfactory and the music director continued on.

"Laura really said a few things tonight that made us all think," Tyler said, running a finger along the rim of the coffee mug as he spoke. "We've been treating her like a princess when she's not. We want to adapt to this idea there is a woman in the midst of men, thus she has to be protected and watched over and fussed about. She's gotten so much attention, good and bad, over the past few months, I wonder what is going to happen when spring training comes around."

"When have we scheduled that, by the way?" Paul asked.

"First two weeks of June. By then, the younger members will have graduated or finished the school year and the older members will be ready to go back to camp."

"How can anyone be ready to go back?" the colorguard coach asked with a half laugh. "I'm still sore from last year."

"Is the guard ready?"

"We will be."

Peter leaned back in his booth, sitting across from Paul and Tyler as usual, and stretched out his feet.

"Will Trygve be there?"

"I think so. You could double check that for me if you want, Peter."

"I might. Where is the camp this year?"

"Same spot as last year. We got the same instructors, facilitators, and so on. Luckily they're still there for us. Otherwise, I don't know if we could get through training."

Conversation ceased, the only sound the directors heard was Paul, crunching on another ice cube. Finally, Tyler spoke again.

"Listen, I've been thinking. Since I'm the Head Director of this corps, I've been considering looking into more staff. It's just the three of us with Jake and Thomas thrown in. Maybe it's time to expand, like other corps."

"But, Tyler, we're not like other corps. That's what sets us apart," Paul argued. "If we expand the staff, it's going to take so much away from the drum majors and the rest of us. Before we started, who ran The Knights? Four, five people? Not many more than us? We can do it! We've done it for years now!"

"We've never had these problems, though. We're not like other corps, yes. In fact, we are almost completely different from the corps out there. Something else I've been thinking about is holding weekend camps like the other corps do."

"In replacement of nightly practice?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's always been nightly practice. And always will be, if I might add."

"We're criticized for being so strict on our corps members in terms of practice. They have to live in this area or be willing to commute to get here every night, meaning we only get people from other corners of the world or even other states if they move and go to college here or have family they can stay with. We're the best of the best, and to be a Knight is a respectable thing in the corps world, but if we-"

"Tyler, we can't be like other corps. It's what sets us apart!" Paul repeated himself, dabbing at spilled soda on the table with a paper napkin. "We're not like other corps!"

"You're right about that," Peter remarked rather sarcastically, "Not every corps lies, cheats, and accepts a girl when they're an all male corps!"

"I'm just saying that maybe we should think of changing the policy and changing the way things are run around here. As Head Director, I think-"

"Will you stop using that title?"

"Fine, Peter, if it makes you feel better about yourself; as the music instructor, I think that if we have some outside influence and hire some instructors to help us out, the corps would run smoother."

"We need to think about that a little bit more," Paul said, realizing he had no more ice cubes left. "This is a very unusual situation we find ourselves in and it might take some unusual answers to our problems. Now, change the subject."

The directors nodded in agreement and Peter snarled softly to himself after a few minutes.

"I shouldn't have written that stupid drill. I shouldn't have done it."

"It's okay, Peter. We told you before that it's staying and it's not a big deal. We just change 'the princess' to 'the captive' and everything will work out. Maybe a colorguard member could play the role or, if a musician is interested, we could work with them."

"Good idea, Tyler. But, Peter?" Paul asked, "Why did you think of Laura when you wrote that drill?"

"I don't know. There was just something that made me think of her in it. I hate to admit it, but I think I've been the worst at coddling her."

"No, Jon and Thomas have been the worst," Tyler corrected. "I think Laura is getting sick of those two always hanging around, being-."

"Not Thomas. He doesn't like Laura at all. He has never been one of those boys to show emotion or let girls know he likes them or give any hint he might be human," Paul commented. "Besides, didn't he make her do all those push ups?"

"Did you see the necklace he gave her for Christmas?"

"Oh. I didn't realize that. He gave her that necklace she was wearing tonight?"

"Yes, he did. And he left looking rather harsh and impartial tonight after practice," Tyler said, sipping the coffee that had now turned lukewarm. "What do you think Laura told him?"

"She probably broke his heart with whatever she told him. After telling us she didn't want to be anything more than a number on a drill page, I suppose that included no relationships within the corps. Dating the drum major while a Knight would be rather- um... What's the word I'm looking for?"

"Inappropriate?"

"Yes."

"Ironic you don't remember that word but it suits you perfectly," Peter remarked.

"Anyway," Tyler continued, cutting Paul off before he could answer to the marching instructor's remark, "I think Laura broke the drum major's heart with whatever she said. Judging by how he acts at the next practice, we'll find out how much damage she did."

_

* * *

Hum, there you are. I think this was more of a transition chapter than anything. I told a little about what's happening to Laura, what's running through the director's heads, and what Laura might have told Thomas. Don't worry, I won't keep you hanging about that poor boy for too much longer! Trygve (trig-vee) is a new character we'll find out about when spring practice comes along; I've already started work on his character. It's going to be great!_

_Thank you very much for reading and let me know what you think! Happy Thanksgiving!_


	42. Guidance

_Hello! Sorry about the long wait! I've gotten so many great reviews! Thank you all so much! I hear this story has become a big hit with a few groups, so I'm absolutely thrilled to hear it's gaining some publicity and that so many people are excited about it!!! I've heard from a few of you who have never reviewed the story before, or have not reviewed in a long time, so it was nice to hear from you guys, too! smiles _

_I've decided that I'm going to put off the character profiles until the end of the story. I'm going to keep the author's note section just for author's notes! I'm going to bring back Mr. Hamon's gruff character soon! Don't worry! I'm going to work on an easier way for everyone (including myself) to remember the director's first names. Like I've mentioned before, I only use their first names when they are talking with one another or with a drum major, like Jake. So, when Paul (the color guard instructor), Tyler (the music instructor/Mr. Deleyney), and Peter (the marching instructor/Mr. Hamon) are eating together or something, it's a first name basis. I've been in groups where I've had to call my director by his first name, but I'm always going to call him by his last name around other students. That's how I'm trying to work the situation! I'm sorry if it's been really confusing! I promise it'll go better!_

_I'm not going to keep you any longer from reading the chapter! (Except to say that this is mostly a transitional chapter, just to involve and inform and set plans for the upcoming situations... I would much rather skip straight to spring training camp, but I'm going to hold out a little while yet, just in case another idea hits me!)_

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* * *

Guidance**

The next practice, and the practice after that, came with howling wind and gray skies, the new year bringing nothing but poor weather. Despite how cold it had been, it seemed the snow was constantly melting and freezing, turning the white fluffiness to dark sheets of ice that reflected the moody skies above. The holiday decorations were slowly disappearing, taking with them what little color they offered the otherwise bleak conditions. The merriment of Christmas was over, no more lights illuminating the nights and no more jolly faces brightening the day. The world, it seemed, was turning various shades of gray and preparing for the winter to fall upon it with all the force it could muster as the corps prepared for the spring.

The Knights were not doing any better than the weather, everyone in a poor mood. Mr. Hamon had prevented two fights by the time the first practice was underway and was on guard for a third to break out at any moment. Paul had taken the colorguard back and forth from the gymnasium to the lecture hall stage, other activities at the college taking their time with the facilities. It seemed that the colorguard was doing worse and worse as the practices passed, the flags and rifles dropping like flies. Mr. Deleyney, as had been agreed before the directors had gone home from the restaurant nearly two weeks ago, was keeping a constant eye on Laura, Jon, and Thomas as well as contacting possible staff members for the upcoming tour.

The three Knights had been unusually distant and sullen. Thomas refused to look at Laura, avoiding all contact or conversation with the girl. His bearing became more proud and aloof every time he passed her, proving he was trying to be indifferent. Eventually, it seemed as if he never noticed Laura as she passed him or as he gave orders to her section. It seemed as if there had never been an intimate moment between the two. His eyes became a permanent shade of gray, matching the threat and intensity of the clouds and his skin became even paler under the florescent lights of the practice rooms. He was a drum major and played the part perfectly once more, no distractions to keep him from his job of directing the corps.

Jon's merry spirit diminished drastically after the first practice, when Laura had told him an abbreviated version of her holiday and said she didn't want to be bothered. Jon didn't seem to understand why Laura had told him what she did, or why she was acting so strange, but respected her request to leave her alone. No longer did he silently ask for support during sectionals or offer to escort her wherever she needed to go, except when the situation called for chivalry and he was not the only one to offer help. No longer did he wait until Laura had put away her instrument and gathered her things to leave the building with her after practice. He didn't tap on her car window anymore if she was still in the parking lot by the time he left, asking to sit and talk for a little while; on more than one occasion, he waited until she had left the parking lot until driving home, waiting to see if she needed any help or to be there if she required assistance. This continued until, one night, Jon left before Laura had even started her car, pulling out into the street without a honk, wave, or even acknowledgment. Jon and Laura grew apart.

Laura herself wasn't looking any better than Thomas, slowly losing weight and becoming paler, but never complained of fatigue. In fact, she never complained at all, hardly speaking and only speaking when necessary. She carried herself with the pride and dignity of a Knight and avoided wearing anything that would make obvious the fact she was a girl, such as tank tops, perfume, or jewelry. The necklace, the little silver clef with the purple stone, had disappeared from her neck entirely. Laura resorted back to putting her keys and any other belongings in her instrument case and coat pockets, the purse disappearing as well. There were moments when Mr. Deleyney and Mr. Hamon would stand together and watch Laura walk by, gaunt and uneasy, wondering if they should intervene and ask how she how she was doing.

"I can't stand it," Mr. Deleyney said one day, watching Laura nearly trip over her own feet and then punish herself for it, grimacing and chewing on her lip until she nearly drew blood. "She's hurting herself."

"She's unhappy," Mr. Hamon answered, crossing his arms and stretching his legs. "She's unhappy, but she's going to stick with this until it's done."

"Laura wouldn't quit the corps, would she?"

"I don't think so. She's not the person to give up on what she loves, no matter what sort of pain it causes her."

"That was nearly poetic."

"Who are you? Paul?" Mr. Hamon snapped. "Just because I have an eloquence with words doesn't give you-"

"I wasn't teasing you. I really wasn't. I agree with you, though, that Laura is too passionate to give up. I just hate to see her hurting herself like this. She's not a boy, but she's trying so hard to be one. Everything about her is leaving and she's turning back into the enigma she was before the corps found out she was a young woman."

"We're going to have to call her Lee again when spring training starts," Mr. Hamon stated. "You remember that, right?"

"Yes, I do," the music instructor answered, sighing. "We can't slip up and concern any of the instructors. If we're not a 'valid' all male drum corps going into training, we can't compete and it doesn't matter if we get that money anyway. How is that going, by the way?"

"I haven't heard from the cooperation since I contacted them last fall."

Mr. Deleyney swore under his breath.

"The search for staff isn't going very well. So far, the only person interested is Trygve himself and he's working with a different corps this summer as a caption-"

"Trygve would get us out of a bind," Hamon interrupted. "After what he did for us after Robert's death, he can do anything."

"But I don't want to ask him for anymore as a friend. If he's a staff member, that's different. All I'm saying is that we need to start finalizing travel plans and get to work on drill, hopefully before spring training."

The directors stood there for a moment more as Laura finished oiling the valves on her trumpet and walked back into the practice room where the trumpets were running a sectional, never noticing the directors watching her from the shadows of the music annex.

"I don't like spying on her like this," Mr. Deleyney said. "It makes me feel like a sick old man. I see she's in pain and I want to stop that pain."

"You have to let this take it's course, Tyler," Mr. Hamon said, shaking his head. "For as long as I've known you, you've always been too much of a bleeding heart."

"And for as long as I've known you, it seems you have too much of a black heart."

"Tyler," the marching instructor said, ignoring the insult and turning to his friend, "If you want to help Laura, think of something that's helped you. When you marched with The Knights and the going got tough, what did you do? I'm going to check on Jake and the baritones while you figure it out. Later, Tyler."

The music instructor watched Mr. Hamon walk away, mulling things over in his mind.

"Hey, Peter," he called as the director walked away, "When are you going to get your tough guy attitude back?"

"As soon as we load those buses on our way to spring training," Peter answered over his shoulder as he roll stepped down the hallway, on his way to check on the young Knights who needed guidance more now than ever.

* * *

"So," Jake said, watching his section leave while standing next to Mr. Hamon, "I hear you're going to change the drill."

"Not by much," was the instructor's reply, "There is no princess. That's about it. The story line is changed just a little bit; now it involves us Knights saving a captive from a dragon on a quest. No princess."

"You didn't want Laura exposed for what she was?"

"She didn't want to do it."

Jake raised his eyebrows in surprise and turned to face Mr. Hamon.

"She told you?"

"She told all of the instructors in the uniform storage room a long time ago. We found her a uniform, but she heard us arguing, I bet. When we came back into the room, she started yelling she wasn't a princess, that she wasn't going to pretend any longer."

"That's not like Laura."

"I know. That's what the biggest problem is right now. Paul said something about protecting her girlish nature until her 'run' with the corps is over and Laura snapped. She thinks that, once the season is over, she's going to be rejected from auditions next year. If she ever wants to do this again, that is. How has she looked to you?"

"Lately? She looks tired, pale, too skinny. I tried talking with her the other day, but she's really pulled away. She won't even talk with Jon anymore. It's like she's totally detaching herself from the rest of the corps. What should I do?"

"Nothing," Mr. Hamon said, frowning in thought. "If she won't work with us now, that's going to give us problems down the road. During camp and during performances, she needs to be connected. She needs to be on the same wave as the rest of us, so taking herself away from the situation is only going to hurt all of us. One of you needs to get through to her and really pull her back."

"What do you mean, one of us? Jon is the only person who has really made a connection with her. Laura and I were friends, yeah, but I don't know her very well yet. Jon is the only hope to pull her back to reality."

"Thomas."

"What about him?"

"You've seen the way they were acting around Christmas and you're not a complete idiot. Didn't you notice the puppy eyes and the necklace?"

"I knew Thomas had bought a necklace; I went with him to find it. I didn't know he gave it to Laura."

"Didn't it seem odd that icy Thomas would by something as sentimental as a necklace?"

"I assumed it was for his mother or something."

"No. It was for Laura. There was something going on there and it seems Laura is suffering from more than a hard hit with reality about the princess deal."

Mr. Hamon switched off the lights as Jake picked up the practice baritone he had used and they both left the room. They walked in silence for a few moments before Jake spoke.

"I told Thomas about this before. I wasn't sure if he listened, but now I know he either didn't hear me at all, or heard and didn't care. I hope it's the first one."

"What did you tell him?"

"That he would ruin fifth trumpet's heart if he wasn't careful. I think he did."

"What do you think we should do?"

Mr. Hamon looked at Jake and raised an eyebrow. Jake was taken aback. In the years he had been a part of the corps, and in the time he had been the Head Drum Major, never had the arrogant marching instructor asked him what the course of action would be. Jake wasn't sure what to say or even think. Contemplating the situation, he asked, "Well, what have you told Mr. Deleyney?"

"That we need to find something to keep the corps strong and get them through the tough time. It's not just Laura and Jon and Thomas we're having a problem with; everyone seems to be dry and upset about the entire musical process. I wouldn't want to try drill with this group because we'd have a rebellion on our hands. Any sudden shift in anything would set a spark into the dry tinder this corps has turned into."

"But, Mr. Hamon, it's always been a little dead around here this time of year. It's just the dullness before spring practice. We've looked through the music and we can't exactly work on the full drill because of lack of space, so we're just waiting it out until-"

"Yeah, I know. But, right now, I think I'll leave the process of fixing our little 'Laura problem' up to you. Tyler and I have enough on our hands at the moment with the rest of the corps and we need some leadership here."

"I'm just the drum major."

"I never want to hear that again. Now get on it."

* * *

_"I'm just the drum major." That is a huge statement (at least to me ) and I'm going to hopefully bring that into the story a little while later, too! I wanted to start involving Jake more often, since he IS the Head Drum Major. For all of you who really want to find out about Thomas and what Laura told him, you don't need to wait much longer, since I'm working on that chapter at the moment. What I SHOULD be doing at the moment is working on getting an essay emailed to a teacher, so I should get on that before I can't work on the story anymore because of a bad grade! Eek! All of you who need to do homework, the chapter is done, so you can go do that, too! (After you leave a review or comment, hopefully! smiles)_


	43. What She Has Become

_Hello, everyone. I'm sorry I haven't been able to update before now, even though I told a lot of you who reviewed that I would have an update up by the end of next week. Unforeseen events came up and now I'm able to devote the time to "Hearts Of Glass." I'm also working on "For The Love Of Music," a series no one really seems to like, so I'm balancing the stories._

_I now have the "Hearts Of Glass" web page up! Check out my profile for the link and more info! I'm currently loading the chapters, bonus material, and pictures. I'm working really hard on it, but I have dial up and a very old computer to deal with, so it's taking me longer than I had hoped. I hope a few people go and check it out and tell me what they think! If you check out the link, be sure to tell me what you think so I can alter and adjust as needed for the readers! Thanks! _

_Today was just a cruddy day for me; we're preparing for a band concert involving 200+ students and two guest conductors, ect... and I'm the band manager for this. Meaning I am in charge of set up, practice, and tear down, as well as concert issues that might come up. Our director is really freaking out and there is so much stress I figured I can just use that emotion to put into the characters, specifically Laura. (Only Laura doesn't have a concert next Monday! Hehe...)_

_I hope everyone else is doing great and I love all the reviews! You are all amazing! _

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* * *

What She Has Become**

"I'm just a drum major."

Those words echoed in Jake's head as he searched the hallways for Laura at the next practice, hoping to catch her before sectionals began. How could he have been so stupid? Drum major was one of the highest positions in any corps and he was the Head Drum Major no less! Had he just picked the wrong words or did he really underestimate his job? Was it really to be just a job to stand up and conduct the band? No wonder Hamon had been so forceful with him. He was embarassed for himself.

"Laura?" Jake called down a hallway, getting no answer. Moving on, Jake continued on his search, asking any other corps members he came across if they had seen Laura.

"No, I haven't," said the boy with the red hair, the one who had gifted Laura at the Christmas party and who, Jake thought, probably had a secret crush on her. "If I see her, I'll let you know you're looking for her, drum major!"

"Just call me Jake," was the reply as the older boy continued searching for Laura.

He was always addressed as 'drum major' during spring training by those who were not section leaders or held no real authoritative position. He didn't want to think that people were already getting into the mood for camp already. Jake wasn't even sure if he wanted that title to be used as a name for the two weeks at camp. Thomas never minded being called by his title; he even encouraged it. But he wasn't Thomas.

"Have you seen Laura?" he asked another boy, realizing he was a percussionist and that all the percussionists hated Laura.

"The chick?"

"Fourth soprano trumpet, you mean?"

"Yeah, I haven't seen her. You've lost her again?"

"Show some respect. If you see her, tell her she should find me."

"I'll be sure to do that," snickered the percussionist. "The drum majors are passing her around, huh? When will the section leaders get a shot with her?"

Jake clenched his fists. The drum major wanted to lose control and hit the young man hard enough to bruise the percussionist he stood next to in practice, but that would only add to the problem; a drum major did not hit people. How dare anyone say something like that about Laura? Or about any woman?

"You're going to treat Laura with the respect you would give any of your fellow Knights. We work together and we respect one another, got it? I would like you to apologize."

"To you?"

"No, to Laura, next time you see her."

"Fine," said the boy, walking away from Jake, rolling his eyes. "The chick probably won't even know what I'm talking about, though."

Jake, biting his lip, had two possible situations on his hands right now. Either he could let the boy walk away and get away with treating Laura and himself with such disrespect or use his drum major authority, something he had not done in what felt like forever. Making up his mind, Jake spoke.

"Did I dismiss you? Come back here. Now."

* * *

"Once more, from the top," Jon said, snapping the tempo with his fingers before counting the trumpets off. They had been working on the movement where the Knights set off on the quest to slay the dragon, a magnificent fanfare of honor and pride. Right now, it sounded like a fanfare of sickness and boredom. None of the trumpets, with the exception of Thomas, could play it right. Not even Jon himself, who kept circling the F sharp on the page with such force that the pencil lead broke.

That time through, the fanfare went better than before, but there was still a lot of work to be done. Jon ran his fingers through his hair and ignored Thomas' meaningful stare, the stare that said 'I know how to run a successful sectional and you don't.' Jon did his best to avoid looking to Laura for reassurance, his safety net whenever he felt uncomfortable. He was breaking himself of the habit, but it didn't hurt to occasionally glance at her. Jon, as he swept the room with his eyes, looking at every trumpet player in the room before continuing on. He lingered on Laura for just a moment longer, though, before turning back to his music.

She looked tough. There were circles under her eyes and she stood wearily, trying to look proud but failing miserably. Her trumpet hung in her hand like a coat on a hook about to fall off the wall and her hair was in a tight braid, tied up on the back of her head in a messy bun. In athletic gear left over from when she was in sports, Laura looked so small and fragile, but would spit poison the moment he spoke to her. Jon knew because he had tried speaking to her before sectionals and she asked him to leave her alone, her words bitter on her lips, painful to his ears. He wasn't even sure if she wanted to be friends anymore. Jon hoped she did, but he wasn't going to say anything. Maybe this was just a girl thing they had to get over by themselves. He knew women were naturally cranky every once in a while. Why was beyond him, but Jon hoped this was just one of those naturally cranky things and not something permanent.

It had been weeks since they had hung out together, Jon feeling sorry that he hadn't stopped to talk with her at all in her car. He had pretended to ignore her, hoping that, through some female reasoning, she would see what was happening to their friendship, to the relationship they had, but Jon didn't know if Laura was even aware things had changed so drastically between them.

"Are you going to move on with sectionals?"

"Just a moment, Thomas, I'm searching for the one part we really messed up on."

"Jon, we messed up on all of it. Let's just run it again."

"This is my sectional, I believe, and we're only going to run the part I say we should."

There was sudden tension in the room after Jon snapped back at Thomas, the pale drum major facing off against the flushed section leader. People who had been joking around about how awful they sounded now realized this was no joke. These adrenaline ridden moments were becoming more and more frequent between the two leaders and it took longer and longer to get back to work. Laura, throughly ignoring both of the boys, began to finger the part she had messed up on, the sound of clacking valves bringing everyone back to reality.

"Let's go at measure forty five," Jon said, breaking eye contact with Thomas and slowly returning his attention back to the music. "We'll take this tempo until we can hit the notes. When I see everyone looking up at me, I'll count us off."

Like usual, Jon made sure Laura was looking at him but, once again, Laura never made eye contact, looking at the hand that would give the cue instead of the face that was looking back.

* * *

Laura ignored Jon until sectionals were over and he walked out of the room with the rest of the trumpet players, congratulating one of them on a good effort that night. There was still about ten minutes to go until sectionals should really be over, but Mr. Deleyney had let them get away with it a few times before now, so it wasn't a big problem to wander around a bit before packing up. She had a headache, partly from the bunch of hair attached to her head, partly from the stress of ignoring her friend and the drum major.

Thomas hung for a moment longer in the room, taking such a long time at packing up his things Laura thought she would have to leave the room first and hope he didn't follow her out immediately. She didn't want to be anywhere near that boy for fear she would blurt out something stupid or blemish the perfect way she had ruined their relationship. Pretending to knock over her stand, batting a few songs to the floor, Laura took the longest time in picking them up, organizing them twice before she realized Thomas had left already. Sighing in relief, Laura felt limp and unhappy. She had thought of what she had told him every time she saw him and the words were just too painful to hear again and again.

_"Thomas," Laura said, "I have something I have to tell you."_

_Thomas let her pull away from him, feeling the warmth he had held for those few precious moments fade away as he looked into her eyes and saw the seriousness resting there, the uncertainty and heartbreak behind them. _

_"What is it, Laura?"_

_"I don't know how to say it properly, so I'm just going to say it and hope I only have to do this once," she answered, taking in a shuddery breath before closing those eyes that looked so scared and nervous and frighteningly mirrored._

_"Thomas, I don't love you. I don't like you. I don't want you to be anything other than the drum major. I'm nothing more than the fourth trumpet player in a corps of 134. I can't be anything more than that."_

_He didn't know what to say. For a moment, he felt a sharp pull in his heart and in his mind, the thoughts ceasing accumulation while he tried to comprehend what she had just said._

_"Do you mean you don't want to even talk with me as more than a musician talking to the director?"_

_"Yes. That's exactly what I mean. If you want this back, you can have it."_

_Laura put a hand over the necklace he gave her for Christmas, raising her eyebrows. Thomas shook with anger._

_"It was a gift. Keep it," he answered, growing even more furious as she started to undo the clasp. "No, if you give it to me, I wouldn't know what to do with it. I would toss it out or give it away. I wouldn't keep it."_

_He almost wanted her to ask him why so he could tell her he didn't want anything to remind him of her and his mistake of letting her get too close to him. But she didn't and Thomas wasn't going to fall that hard. He was going to be the chivalrous Knight he was made to be. He wasn't going to fight this._

_"Laura, can I ask you why?"_

_"Because," she said, tearing up, causing Thomas even more fury he was afraid he wouldn't be able to suppress, "You're a drum major. You've caused me so much pain and anger already that anything between us wouldn't work out. Everything from those push ups when I first came here and you getting angry when you found out I was even in the corps to every time you look at me and never smile."_

_Thomas found himself holding his breath. Keeping control, he bowed his head briefly in acceptance of her decision._

_"I was told never to break the fifth trumpet's heart. I was never told anything about breaking the heart of fourth trumpet. Goodnight."_

_And, as he walked away, Thomas could almost feel her tears fall down her cheeks, the pain of a breaking heart shooting through his every nerve. She was fourth soprano trumpet now, not fifth, like when Jake had talked with him in the theater after Laura hurt her arm. It was true and it worked to brush Laura off. That was what hurt the most, the fact he actually could brush her away like there had never been anything between them._

_As she watched him leave, Laura could feel herself shaking, as if she was going to fall apart at any moment. Letting out a silent sob, her hand over her mouth, she touched the silver treble clef with the purple stone with her other hand, feeling the smooth metal and how warm it was. For a moment, she had been held and comforted by the person she had known she wanted to be around since she saw the corps perform in the summer. The blond hair, so pale under any light at all, and the cold eyes, always changing colors, were imprinted in her mind as he disappeared from the hallway. Even though she did not entirely understand what he had meant about breaking her heart, she knew he was angry and upset._

_She hoped she was doing the right thing..._

"Laura!"

Jake's voice brought her from her memories and she flushed as she saw him looking at her from the doorway, concern on his face.

"Hello," she said, not wanting to call him by his name or title, just wanting him to go away. "Can I help you?"

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to leave. And you?"

"Spying on you. You're the last part of my evil master plan to take over the world and, with you as my prisoner, the-"

"It's not funny, so you can stop now."

Jake let her snap at him, hoping it was the only time but anticipating it was only the first of many times she would grow angry with him.

"I'm really here to see how you are. Mr. Deleyney is concerned."

"Great, at least one person is concerned about me. So sad I don't care."

"Laura, this isn't like you. I've never seen you act like this before."

She didn't know what to say to that because it was true. She didn't feel like herself. She didn't like what she had become, a cold, cruel woman instead of the fun, loving girl she once was.

"Say what you're thinking, Laura. I won't mind if you ignore me because I won't ignore you. I'll be here, okay?"

Laura almost let him walk away before opening her mouth to speak. Seeing this, Jake backed up and waited, a faint smile on his face of encouragement.

"I don't like what being in this corps has done to me. I don't like how I feel, I don't like how I act, I don't like how I am as a person anymore. Ever since I realized how hated I was here, I've never let it get to me before now. I let everyone call me the princess of the corps. You were all Knights, I was a Princess. And I didn't care because I liked the attention. I was the flower you all protected from those who wanted to step on me. But, after I realized how bad things were getting after Christmas, after I pushed Thomas away and Jon away and everyone away, I just made myself stop caring."

Jake, walking up to her, put a hand on her shoulder.

"You know, Laura, it's okay to feel those things, but we all still care for you. It's not because you're a girl or because you're a part of the corps or anything like that. You're a friend, a person who is there for us when we need her. We want to help you and give back a little of what you gave us. It's okay to lean on us once in a while."

"What if I don't want to?"

"We'll wait until you're ready. Whenever you want us, Laura, we'll be there for you. Know that we're here, okay?"

Laura soundlessly walked out of the room with Jake, the drum major switching off the lights and making sure the door was locked behind them.

"Jake, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Laura."

"What did Thomas mean when he said he couldn't break fifth trumpet's heart, but no one said anything about fourth trumpet?"

Jake closed his eyes tight. 'Thomas, damn you,' he thought, 'You've really gone and done it now.' How could he answer that?

"I have to tell you, Laura, that I don't know. I can just tell you that he's not the sort to open up. He's cold. He is not going to tell you something he doesn't mean, though. He's a nice guy like that."

"Thank you, drum maj-"

"Just call me Jake. You'll always be Laura to me."

* * *

_Thank you very much for reading and hopefully I'll get some reviews! Thank you very much! Happy Reading!_


	44. The Deadline Is Set

_Hello there! I've had a huge band concert to prepare for and perform at, as well as battling a cold, so I haven't been able to update lately! I've had some reviews from all of my readers, a few of them nearly hostile, demanding I update, so I'm updating! Hehe... I thank you all, though, and I'm really happy that people want me to update! It's no problem to hear from you! I would rather have people begging for updates than nothing at all! _

_I'm afraid I'm not feeling like myself tonight, so I'm sorry if this chapter feels a bit out of character. I usually update when I've either gotten 100 hits or 7 or 8 reviews, so this is also very unusual for me to update so late. Sorry again! I hope you're all doing okay!_

_I saw the "real" Trygve over the weekend, too, so I'm excited to be talking about his character more in the next few chapters, along with the rest of the new characters we meet at camp! Thank you again and please leave me a review! Many thanks!_

* * *

**The Deadline Is Set**

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Tyler. I'm not letting you change the music, anyway."

The music director turned in his plush chair to face the marching instructor, who had a smarmy look on his face, as usual. Nodding as if in a haze, Tyler turned back to the laptop he had open in front of him, balanced on his knees. The music of the show he had worked so hard on hummed on the speakers and the open program he had been typing away on was the software he had composed the music on, making changes to the score.

"How did you know-?"

"That you were changing the music?" Peter asked, taking a seat in the row behind the music instructor, peering at the changes being made over Tyler's shoulder. "Because you've only been complaining about it as long as I've been complaining about the drill. Because this happens every year before we go into spring camp and it's too late to change anything. And because you're just naturally picky."

"Saying you aren't?" Tyler asked, closing out of the program and turning off the music. Slowly, he began to shut the computer down and Peter stretched his legs out and put his hands behind his head, as usual.

"I never said anything about myself. I notice you didn't save the changes."

"I didn't like the changes after all."

Tyler smiled as he heard Peter snort.

The auditorium was silent, the faint rumble of drums in the practice room next to the theater hardly audible. The stage lights were off and only one row of lights were lit over the cushioned crimson seats, the lights above the row of chairs Tyler was sitting in. Peter, half hidden in the darkness of the theater, was pleased with himself and couldn't help but tap his sandaled foot.

"I notice you're happy. What did you do?" Tyler asked, sighing. "Why are you wearing sandals? It's not summer yet."

"Tyler, it's May and you know me well enough that I'm surprised you asked that. I try and wear sandals all year round. I retired the sneakers I got for Christmas months ago. Once the snow started to melt, at least."

"You never answered my first question of what you did."

"I didn't do anything."

There was a creak as the theater doors opened and Laura walked in, hesitantly calling out, "Mr. Hamon?"

"Over here," Tyler said, giving the marching instructor a dubious look as Peter shrunk into his chair, trying to cover himself entirely in shadows, making himself nearly invisible. Laura, seeing Mr. Deleyney, smiled and bounced down the stairs, her hair in it's thick braid pounding against her back.

Laura had just graduated a week ago, now out of high school. Jon had went to the ceremony, catching a ride with Thomas. Neither of them stayed for any of the parties afterward, Jon having graduated from another school just a few days before and Thomas was a freshman in college, but both tried to be there for Laura on her graduation day. Thomas had given her a card, a simple, plain card with scrawling gold letters on the front congratulating her and Jon had given her a pair of fun socks.

"To get you back for those mittens," he had laughed, giving her a hug and a shake.

Mr. Deleyney patted the chair next to him and Laura sat down, hands under her knees.

"How was graduation, Laura?" Mr. Deleyney asked, "Did you have fun? Are you happy?"

"Very happy," Laura said, bubbling. "I couldn't wait to get out of there! I had a good time saying goodbye to the school, knowing I didn't ever have to back!"

"You didn't like school?" Mr. Deleyney asked, slightly concerned. Laura looked very happy for saying such a cold thing. "I thought you did."

"After the band program fell apart, there was nothing for me there," she explained, some of the smile leaving her face, but her tone still bright. "I had so many hard classes with rude teachers and there was just so much drama. Part of the reason I was fighting with everyone earlier in the year was because my classes were just draining me."

"You could have said something to us, Laura," the music instructor said, startled by this information. Jake had told him Laura had been in a bad mood for weeks on end because she was mad at Thomas and Jon. "If it was your classes, we could have cut back even more on practices."

"No, it was okay. Besides, it was mostly because of, well, I think Jake told you."

Mr. Deleyney nodded, a crooked, half hearted smile on his face. He didn't think it was one bit okay that Laura had been having problems outside of the corps as well, but it was an unspoken rule that things that didn't have to do with The Knights, unless it involved something that affected other people or was a severe problem, wasn't brought up at practice or events. There had been many theories floating around after Jake had brought back the information from Laura that she was upset about the corps, but there had been nothing about personal life involved. Mr. Deleyney had shrugged it off after she started to laugh with Jon again and even speak to Thomas. He knew it was poor judgment on his part, but there were other things to deal with than the problems of one corps member. Like setting up for spring training. He could only do so much.

"But, sorry to drag the mood down," Laura said, interrupting the music director from his thoughts. "I heard you wanted to talk to me, so I came from practice."

"I didn't- I didn't say- No, I-" Mr. Deleyney stammered, confused. Then, shutting his eyes and heaving his shoulders in defeat, he felt Laura jump next to him and heard her piercing shriek of surprise as Mr. Hamon grabbed their shoulders and snarled.

"I should have realized you were behind this," Mr. Deleyney muttered, putting the laptop into the computer bag at his feet as Laura blushed for having screeched. He brushed off her mumbled apology, nodding his head.

"Laura, I wanted you to be here. But I also wanted the drum majors and Jon to be here, too. Where are they?"

Laura shrugged, Mr. Hamon frowning.

"Didn't Jon come with you?"

"Yeah, but he said he wanted to get a drink at the water fountain first. Thomas was going to run the sectional until he got back. I haven't seen Jake."

"Deleyney, keep her here while I go get Mr. Trumpet and Mr. Trumpet Wannabe."

Mr. Hamon jumped out of his chair and took the stairs two at a time, disappearing out the large theater doors.

"What is this about?"

"I don't know," Mr. Deleyney said, resting his chin on his hand as he propped his elbow against the back of his chair. "That man works in mysterious ways."

"He seems happy about something."

"I noticed that, too. I don't know what about, though. Any guesses, Laura?"

"Your guesses are as good as mine," she giggled, pulling her feet up into the chair and wrapping her arms around her knees. "Maybe it's about spring training. Does he like spring training?"

"More than most people, but that's only because his hard attitude can come back and he can yell at people again. You'll find he gets cold and angry at the world at spring training and doesn't change until Christmas time."

"What a Scrooge."

"You could say that."

Mr. Deleyney was growing more and more worried, however, as he thought about what the marching instructor could have planned. He was only happy for two reasons, normally. One was if something really good was about to happen. Another was if something he had control over was going to happen. Either one made Tyler nervous because Peter was keeping something from him.

* * *

The sound of a chromatic scale echoed off the corridor walls as Mr. Hamon whipped open the practice room door. Nearly a dozen trumpet players looked back at him in surprise, Thomas at the front of the room with his silver instrument.

"Drum major, let's go."

"I can't leave the section."

"I said let's go."

Thomas looked at the marching instructor as if he were crazy. The marching instructor looked back, waiting.

"Who will take over?" Thomas asked carefully, waving at the group. "The section leader left and hasn't come back. I have to be here to make up for his absence."

"I've been meaning to talk with you about that," Mr. Hamon said, leaning against the door frame. "Either we can talk here and let the whole section know what sort of problems you and I need to sort out or we can keep them a private matter and give the trumpets a well earned break. What do you think?"

The last statement was directed toward the musicians, who smiled and whooped at the chance of a break. Thomas, defeated, left the room, carrying his trumpet in a cradle as he followed Mr. Hamon to the auditorium.

"What was it that was so important you had to give the trumpets a break?"

"Thomas, I appreciate the fact you want to work hard, but you're not a section leader anymore. Jon is. If Jon tells them to jump backward through a hoop on one foot while patting his head, they'll do it. He'll make them do it. It's not your place anymore."

"Mr. Hamon, I don't believe you see the severity of the situation," Thomas argued. "The trumpets cannot play the last part of the third movement, which is one of the-"

"I don't care at the moment, Thomas, what part of that don't you understand?" Mr. Hamon snapped, stopping to turn and face Thomas. "You're a drum major! You can tell Jon to jump backward through a hoop on one foot while patting his head if you want to, but you can't tell the entire section to do that. I'm officially pulling you from the trumpet section and you start work with Jake to brush up before camp. Conducting and commands. Drop off the trumpet on your way to the auditorium."

"Mr. Hamon, I don't agree."

The marching instructor looked closely at the young man, sizing him up. His hair was a little darker since last summer, his skin as pale as ever. He had grown a half an inch or so, maybe a little more, but he was still the drum major he had pulled together last year and the year before that... When had Thomas stopped following orders, though? When had Thomas grown a backbone?

"Thomas," he said carefully, narrowing his eyes. "I don't know what's come over you, but I want you to knock it off. And quick. We have training in a week. You need to be in your best shape for being a drum major, not a trumpet player. If you want to be a trumpet player again, we'll give someone else your job. Would you like to take orders from another Knight again instead of me? Would you like to see someone less qualified than yourself stand up during the awards ceremony and salute? If you want that, we can arrange it."

Thomas shook his head. Mr. Hamon nodded his.

"Good. Now I'm going to find Jake. Meet with Deleyney in the theater."

"What's going on?"

"You'll find out if you go to the theater now, won't you? You sure don't have to have brains to be a drum major these days, huh?"

Thomas, shrugging off the insult, dropped his head. What had come over him? Why had he argued with Mr. Hamon. This had never really happened before. Was it because he missed his section? Did he not like being a drum major? Smiling at his own stupidity, Thomas wanted to shake himself. He had acted like a fool. Of course he loved being a drum major. Why would he want to be a trumpet player again?

Wanting to erase all his anti-drum major thoughts, Thomas followed Mr. Hamon down the hallway, looking for his trumpet case among the stacks.

* * *

"I've found them all, no need to worry," Mr. Hamon said, walking into the auditorium with the drum majors and section leader behind him. "Jake and Jon were chatting in the bathroom, just like girls, and Thomas was busy giving me lip."

"That doesn't sound like you," Mr. Deleyney commented to the blond haired, quiet young man, chuckling. "Giving the marching instructor a hard time?"

"No, sir," Thomas replied, nodding to Laura as he sat down in one of the chairs.

"Too bad," was the answer from the music instructor as Jake and Jon sat on the stairs.

"Now, for my news," Mr. Hamon said, nearly kicking Jon in the back in his rush to get down the stairs and in front of the group of young men (and one young woman) to give them the information. He seemed almost giddy in delight as he dug in a pocket for a brief moment and pulled out a thin, long bit of paper.

"This is the check from the foundation that agreed to sponsor us last fall," he announced, "I got a hold of them last week and this just arrived this morning. We are now fully funded and ready to go. We will be meeting with the spokespeople of the foundation the day before we leave. They want to meet Laura."

"Is that a good thing?" Jake asked, Jon giving Laura's arm a squeeze.

"It's a very good thing. They are sponsoring us because of Laura, so of course they want to meet her."

"They?"

"Actually, a she. She was the one who would only sponsor us if there was at least one female. I don't know her name, but Trygve does. He set us up with the foundation to begin with. The lady who set the agreement happens to be the head of this company and writes the checks."

"So, you've never told us why they needed one girl in an all male drum corps," Jon said. "Is this a feminist thing or what?"

"Who cares at the moment?" Mr. Hamon said, ecstatic. "It'll all be explained when we meet her next week. But, the other, not so very good thing I needed to talk about is this: Laura needs to cut her hair before camp starts. Not a trim, a full cut. All of it comes off. I don't care when you do it, but you need to do it before next week."

All eyes turned to Laura, who froze. Jon patted her arm sympathetically and Jake gasped. Thomas sat silent, never looking at Laura.

She now had a deadline. Her hair would be gone by next week.

* * *

_Thanks again and be sure to leave me a message or review! I just love them! Thank you and Happy Holidays! (It doesn't offend anyone if I say Happy Holidays at the end of the chapters until Christmas, does it? I'm really used to saying that around this time of year! Sadly, I've seen no snow yet, which is SO unusual for where I live!)_


	45. The Haircut

_Hello, everyone! I originally posted this chapter under another name, ect... and it had a different ending. In fact, it had different nearly everything! So, after about 2 reviews and 50 hits, I decided, "Either everyone is on vacation or the chapter was really, REALLY bad." I went back and re-wrote it! I hope you enjoy it! Guess what made writing this chapter really special for me? _

_I got a haircut myself. I thought about this story when I was waiting for my hairdresser (whose name was not Rob) and thought, "Wow, I what timeing?!" All in all, I got 8 inches off and it is just a little past my shoulder's now. For having super long hair for almost all my life, it's so weird to have short hair! So, now I can write about Laura and her feeling with her new haircut from a very personal point of view! _

_Happy Holidays, everyone! I hope your Christmas was great and that the new year holds great things for you all! Please leave a review or something about the story! (Oh, thank you for all your PMs wishing me a Merry Christmas! How nice of you all! I feel so lucky to have such great readers!)_

**

* * *

The Haircut**

Laura sat nervously in the waiting room of the beauty shop, fidgeting in the cold, hard plastic chair. Her cell phone was in her purse, on and waiting for the eventual calls she would make; Laura promised she would call Jon, Jake, and Thomas after she got her hair cut. The heavy weight of dark hair hung on her shoulders and around her arms, the strands clinging to her shirt. Laura looked at them, the delicate hair gleaming under the florescent lights in the waiting room. She flipped through a fashion magazine, not really interested, just trying to pass the time away. There were only two people in the waiting room: herself and the receptionist. The older lady who ran the receptionist's desk looked up at her.

"What beautiful hair," she crooned, a large toothy smile meant to reassure Laura. "Are you getting it washed or trimmed?"

"Neither," Laura answered, feeling her voice shake. "I'm getting it cut."

"Would you like to look at a stylist's book? We have hundreds of cuts available," the lady said, pointing at the stack of books in the magazine rack next to her desk. As tempting as it was to get up and look at all the cuts she could get, Laura knew that it would be useless: she already had a cut in mind.

"I don't think so," Laura said, getting up to put the magazine she had barely read back on the rack. "I already know what sort of cut I'm getting."

"It's helpful for the stylist to have a picture, sweetie," the receptionist said, making Laura cringe. She hated it when people called her by endearing names, especially people she hardly knew. Laura knew the lady had made a point, though, and picked up a stylist book. Sitting back down, she adjusted her purse and checked on her cellphone, half hoping for someone to call and give her an excuse to leave. No such luck.

Flipping through the book, Laura saw many haircuts meant specifically for long hair that were so tempting to pick out. Waves and curls and layers and all sorts of interesting things for long hair. But, knowing she could never manage to hide her hair at it's current length, no matter what sort of style she had, Laura flipped to the back of the book where they had the short cuts. Surprisingly, she found herself nodding approvingly at some of the pictures, bookmarking pages with her fingers. Feeling eyes on her, Laura looked up to see the receptionist looking at her.

"Have you found anything you like?"

"Yes, I think I have," Laura answered, "I have to get a cut up to my shoulders, at least, maybe a pixie cut... I don't really know for sure."

"So you've found things you like, but you're not sure yet?"

Laura didn't answer to this rather absurd question. It was apparent the lady just wanted to have a conversation, but Laura didn't feel like making small talk, not when there were so many butterflies in her stomach. She was on edge and Laura didn't want to let something slip out of her mouth she might regret, such as telling the lady off for bothering her. After all, the receptionist was just doing her job, trying to be polite to customers. Laura, trying to resolve her feelings for the lady and rest her nerves, just smiled and went back to the book of hair cuts.

Soon, a man with scissors and a comb in his shirt pocket walked up behind the desk and whispered to the receptionist. The lady smiled and nodded and called for Laura. Catching her breath, Laura nearly dropped her purse as she walked up to the desk, the book in her hands.

"You have to leave the book here for other customers, so why don't you show Rob what sort of haircut you want right now."

The receptionist's voice was sweet and made Laura want to gag. Realizing she had lost her page in her haste to stand, Laura blushed as she flipped through the book, feeling the eyes of the receptionist and the hairdresser on her. Finding the model with the hair she wanted, or rather, had to have, Laura pointed.

"I have a question, though," Laura asked quickly, her curiosity getting the best of her, "If I were to get this haircut, only an inch or two longer, could I still pull it back into a ponytail?"

The hairdresser, Rob, looked closely and nodded.

"Then that's the one," Laura said softly, looking at the girl in the photo. The girl was smiling and blushing prettily, a tan to her skin setting off the highlights in her chopped hair. Laura tried to imagine it a few inches longer. Would the hair still be hidden by her hat? Could she pin some of the hair so the part that swept into a ponytail stayed hidden? How many pins would that be?

"It's a pity you have to cut off all that hair,"the lady at the desk said one last time before Laura followed Rob into the back where the sound of snipping scissors and hairdryers came from. That remark didn't make Laura feel any better. In fact, it made her doubt her decision even more.

* * *

"Do you think Laura is going to follow through with it?" Tyler asked, sipping the coffee before grimacing. It needed more cream. Snatching a cream cup from the dish in front of him, Tyler looked around for a spoon.

"I don't know," Peter answered, handing Tyler his own spoon. "She better go through with it, though. She knows what's on the line."

The two directors sat at their usual table in their usual restaurant. Paul wasn't with them that night, insisting he rework the colorguard drill alone before camp, and maybe that's why it seemed so quiet. It almost drove the music instructor crazy that the only sounds were of the cooks in the kitchen, Peter's voice, and the clicking of his own spoon inside the coffee cup he was stirring.

"I was happy last week," Peter said, raising his arms above his head, "Because we finally heard back from the damn corporation. I was starting to think they had given us the slip and caused us all those problems with Laura for nothing."

"That's cruel, Peter."

"It's the truth."

The directors sat in silence and Tyler watched as cars zoomed by on the street next to the parking lot. He picked his own car out and wished he could make up an excuse that his lights were on or that he forgot to lock the doors so he could leave, if only for a little while. Maybe dinner with Peter without the colorguard instructor along was a bad idea. Paul at least brought a little humor into the conversation. With Peter, it was almost all cynical observation. Or maybe Tyler was just irritated that night? He didn't know for sure, but something was bothering him. If only he could figure out what...

"Tyler, you seem very aggravated," Peter said, stretching out his legs and grabbing his beer from the table. "What's up?"

"I just don't know," the music instructor said, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe it's because Laura's going in for her haircut tonight."

"You're ruining our dinner because you're nervous for Laura and her haircut?" Peter asked slowly, making fun of Tyler. "You're an idiot."

"No, I'm concerned," Tyler retorted heatedly. "Ever since I met Laura, she's always loved her hair. Her hair is part of what makes her who she is and now she has to get rid of that!"

"You sound like a boyfriend or something, Tyler. Get over it. It's not a big deal. You don't worry this much about other members of the corps."

"Laura is not like the other members of the corps, that's the thing!"

The a cook looked out of the kitchen at the sound of the raised voice and gave Tyler a quick look of warning. Tyler shook his head.

"Peter, you honestly don't know how girls feel. Girls, all girls, no matter how much they say they don't or don't even know they do, love their hair. They care about how it looks. Laura has always been very distinguished in a crowd because of her hair. If we take that away from her, she's not Laura!"

"Didn't you say pretty much this same thing about when she first became a Knight? Something about being a girl and taking that away because he had to treat her like a guy, which we didn't do very well, might I add?"

"I just- I don't know what to think. It would be worse not worrying about her than worrying about her, don't you think?"

Peter looked out the window and tapped the bottom of his beer bottle on the top of the table. Tyler snorted.

"I can smell smoke, so I know you're thinking," the music director spat, nearly gulping his coffee, which was nearly cold by now.

"I smell smoke, too," Peter said nonchalantly, "But I think it's coming from the kitchen and not from me. I understand what you're saying, though, Tyler. I know I'm a pretty cold hearted guy when it comes to the marching season, but I think I know what you mean."

"No, you don't know," Tyler said angrily, "If you knew, you wouldn't be acting like this."

"Tyler, in all the years you've known me, when have I not acted like this? Honestly? I don't think I've become harder, I think you've become softer!"

Tyler stood up and grabbed his wallet, tossing money on the table to pay for his coffee plus a tip. Peter sat up and leaned his elbows on the table.

"Where are you going?"

"Home, where I should be!"

"Off to worry some more about poor little Laura and what her new haircut might look like?"

"No, off to go to bed and forget that the marching director is such an idiot."

"I didn't know you thought about me, Tyler! I'm flattered," Peter smirked.

"See, Peter, you are an idiot because forgetting doesn't mean thinking about. It's the exact opposite! Goodnight!"

Tyler walked out of the restaurant and the cooks looked out of the kitchen once more as Peter stomped to his feet and tossed some of his own money on the table to pay for his beverage.

"Hey, guys!" called a burly looking cook from the kitchen, wiping a dish, "If you're going to carry on like that, you can't come back."

"Don't worry," answered Peter coldly. "It's none of your business anyway."

With that, Peter stomped out the door.

* * *

"How was that wash?" the hairdresser asked, smiling at Laura in the mirror. Laura smiled back, throughly relaxed. Getting her hair washed was almost like a head massage. She never even knew there were so many muscles up there or that having another person wash her hair would feel so good.

"It was great, thank you," Laura answered, honest. When she had been laying back in the chair with the steam of the hot water and the scent of the shampoo washing over her like the water over her hair, Laura had felt herself relax. All her worries had almost disappeared. Almost was the keyword, though, and now that Laura was sitting in a cold chair and the steam and massaging fingers were gone, her anxiety was about to come back.

"So, if you don't mind my asking," Rob said as he wound a soft bit of cloth around her neck and clipped a long bib over Laura's entire body, "Why would you get get all your hair cut off? It's so long and pretty!"

Laura felt a little amused as the hairdresser ran his finger's through her long wet hair.

"I have to get my hair cut so short because I have to look like- like a-"

"A boy?" offered the hairdresser.

Laura nodded her head

"I don't know if I should tell you this or not, because it's supposed to be a secret, but I don't know how to get around it," Laura said, nearly stammering in her nervousness. "Do you know what a drum corps is?" she asked, hoping he would say no, which he did.

"I have to look like a boy because I'm in an all boy's drum corps. It's a secret. The boys and directors all know I'm a girl, but no one else is supposed to know. That's why it would be nice to have a haircut where I can still have enough hair to pull back into a ponytail so I still look like a girl when the season is over, but short enough that I can pin all of it under my hat easily."

Laura half hoped the hairdresser would laugh at her so she could confirm how stupid she felt, but Rob was very nice. He smiled and agreed that it would be a good plan and that the hairstyle she had showed him could work for that if he modified it a little bit.

"To be honest," he said, waving his comb around as he talked, "I've never had to work around a dilemma like that before, but hair is meant to be enjoyed and, if you can't enjoy it, why have it? I can make this work!"

Rob walked around the chair, making it the right height for him to work on her hair and adjusting things as they continued their conversation.

"I just, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, here," Laura said just as the man was about to snip off the first bit of hair. "I don't want to do this. I love my hair."

"Well, girl, if you love it, keep it!"

"It's not as easy as that, though!"

"What do you love more? This secret boy club or your hair?"

"I love being a Knight, but I've always had my long hair!"

Laura was startled to hear her voice become desperate and tears prick her eyes. She couldn't cry! She had to do this! Her hair had to do! But, like Laura had confessed before, she had always had long hair! It was going to take so long to grow back. The hairdresser, looking genuinely concerned, asked if she really wanted to do this.

"I shouldn't," Laura said, "But I'm going to."

Rob started to cut and Laura shut her eyes, imagining all the locks of hair falling to the ground to lay at the hairdresser's feet. This hair had been with her for years and years. She had had to braid it before every marching event before her marching band fell apart. It was with her that night when her band director walked out on her. It was there when she had first seen the Knights perform. Memories flooded Laura and she saw each one of them as vividly as she could.

_She had braided her long brown hair into a tight braid and pinned it up under an old hat her father had left in the upstairs closet. Hopefully no one would notice that her hair was actually bunched up under the hat: she would hate to have to cut it. She loved her long hair, but was even willing to cut it short for the corp if she was accepted. She had contemplated doing that the night before the audition, but as Laura held the scissors in her hand, she couldn't do it. Let the audition be lost or won before she did anything with her hair._

Laura remembered trying to find that old hat, digging through the closet. She wondered where she had put it and if she would need it at camp. Yes, she would, if she had to perform in front of corps officials at practice; Laura didn't know if she would have to or not. Laura remembered when she had to take off her hat and reveal her secret at her audition...

_"Mr. Hamon, will you settle down?" said Tyler, shocked. "Honestly, treat Lee with a bit more respect!"_

_"Whatever you say, Mr. Deleyney," answered Peter, leaning back and crossing his arms, chin set haughtily in the air. "After she takes off her hat."_

_"I don't see why this is needed, but if you would please humor our marching instructor by taking your hat off, we could move onto the results."_

_Laura could have cried as she reached up and took off the ratty baseball cap, feeling her braid she had carefully hid under the hat fall across her shoulder. She dropped the cap on the stage and bowed her head._

She had felt so bad in that one moment, like nothing she had felt before. It was the sinking feeling of despair, thinking all her hopes and dreams to become a Knight were gone with that one motion. Laura remembered the sound the cap had made, a dull thump on the stage when she dropped it. Had she ever found it after that day? Yes, she had worn it to the fateful practice when everyone had found out she was a girl.

_Matt crept up behind Laura and snatched the hat off her head, causing her long dark braid of hair to fall down her back. Laura gasped and tried to snatch it back, fear seizing her heart._

_"How dare you!" she yelled, trying to take the hat back before Matt tossed it over her head to Andrew, who caught it in amazement._

_"You're a freak!" Andrew yelled, looking at the long hair Laura was trying to tuck into the back of her shirt, putting her trumpet on the ground. "You're a long haired freak!" _

_"No, 'Lee' is actually a girl!" Matt answered, pulling on Laura's hair, causing her to fall backward, twisting around as she tried to loosen Matt's grip._

Oh, how much that had hurt, Laura could never tell. Not just emotionally, being yelled at and found out for what she really was, but physically. She had always hated it when people had tugged on her hair, especially when she had braided it. Braiding it was always such a chore, too. Laura never let anyone else braid her hair if at all possible...

_Grabbing one of the hair bands she always kept on her wrists, Laura began braiding her hair, trying to keep the three pieces of hair separate. After a few moments, she saw Jon looking at her strangely, the grin that had appeared earlier growing wider. He held her hat in his hands and watched her braid her hair._

_"How do you do that?" he asked, holding her hat out to her. _

_"Do what?" Laura asked as she tried to put the braid under the hat._

_"Braid hair? I know it's stupid for me to ask, but could I try doing that with your hair sometime?"_

Laura shut her eyes tighter and tried hard not to listen to the snip of the scissors as the hairdresser did his job. She hadn't remembered her promise to Jon! She had promised him she would let him braid her hair. Why she was upset over such a silly promise? Good riddance with the hair! But Laura felt the tears on her cheeks and wiped them away sharply, angry with herself. She didn't open her eyes to see if Rob had saw her wipe away the tears.

Rob. The hairdresser's name reminded her of Robert, the boy who had caused all the mess for The Knights. He was a good musician and a kind friend, she had heard from those who cared most for him. Jake had been his best friend and his loss had driven him to taking antidepressants. Robert must have been a good guy indeed. But he had been stupid and sneaked away from the group, a freak accident costing him his life and his brotherhood their respectability. Now, The Knights had to lie, cheat, and steal to keep themselves going. Laura was their biggest lie.

She was a lie.

"All done," said the hairdresser, his cheery voice snapping her out of her thoughts. "I took off almost ten inches! Two more inches and you would have gotten a free haircut!"

"It's only a few dollars," Laura said, her voice dull.

"Aren't you going to open your eyes and see your new haircut?"

Laura did so and almost gasped as she saw how much was really gone. Ten was such a low number on the whole scale of numbers, but a lot when you've lived with ten inches of hair for as long as Laura had. Rob flipped the hair over Laura's shoulders.

"It's long enough that you can pull it back into a pony tail; most of it, anyway. The other parts you'll have to pin. When it's down, you'll still have a feminine charm, but you can pull it back whenever you want to. When you need it all pinned up, this is what you'll do. It won't be very attractive, but it's all going to be under the hat so no one can see it anyway!"

Rob pulled some bobby pins out of a drawer and stuck a few of them in his mouth as he set to work coaching Laura on how to put up her hair.

* * *

Laura was thankful when she was able to escape to her car. After Rob showing her how to put up her hair, using no less than fifteen bobby pins, Laura had thanked him. He gave her a quick hug and told her to stop by anytime. Laura knew she would never be there again, but thanked him again and paid the receptionist, who gasped when she saw Laura.

"What a beautiful haircut! I wasn't sure you could pull it off at first, but Rob really does work miracles, doesn't he?"

Laura could only nod and hand the woman her money, trying to ignore the comment that stung like soap in the eyes. With her hair out of it's pins and ticking her neck, Laura went shopping for the heck of it, trying to relieve some stress. The only things she bought was a pack of bobby pins and a container of antacid.

Finally, sitting in her car, ready for the ride home, Laura's phone rang. Picking it up and realizing it was Jon, Laura felt elated and even more depressed at the same time.

"Hey, girl!" Jon said, "How was the haircut?"

"Tough," she answered, trying to keep her voice from cracking. Laura was happy she was in the parking lot and not out on the road because she would have had to pull over. "It was tough."

"I bet you look so good, Laura!"

"I don't think so. I look hideous."

"You never could look anything but beautiful, Laura," Jon said carefully. "You're not crying, are you?"

"Yes, I am," Laura said, wiping away the tears from her face, trying to keep the words coming instead of freezing up and bawling. "Jon, I broke my promise!"

"What promise?"

"That you could braid my hair!"

"It'll be okay, Laura," Jon said after a few moments of silence. "The hair doesn't matter. Would it help if we all got together before the big practice the day after tomorrow?"

"Like, you and Thomas and Jake?" Laura asked hesitantly. "But I thought you and Thomas didn't get along."

"We'll manage, Laura. We would be best friends if it meant making you happy."

"Nice try at making me laugh, Jon," Laura said, feeling some of her unhappiness slip away as Jon laughed. "Yeah, it would be great if we could all get together."

"Let me call the others. Jake would probably know Thomas' number. I'll talk to you later tonight about what's going on tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

"And, Laura?" Jon asked before hanging up, "I can't wait to see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jon. I'll talk to you later."

Laura heard Jon say goodbye and then the click as the connection broke and he hung up. Laura put her phone back in her purse and didn't feel quite as bad about her haircut, not now that she had talked to Jon, the best friend she could ever ask for.

* * *

_Like I said before, it would be great to hear from you about the story! Oh, and I'm also co-writing a story with The Ptyrodactyl and dutchesscourtney called "The Season." We would all really appreciate it if you stopped by and took a look at that and maybe told us what you think! The first chapter is up and the second one is in the works! Thank you so much for reading and Happy New Year!_


	46. Laura And The Boys

_Hello, my readers! I hope your new year has been going very well so far and I'm so happy that I've gotten so many new readers! It just makes my day to find out that so many new readers are taking a look at Hearts Of Glass and enjoying it!_

_So far, we're only two chapters away from camp! I'm looking forward to writing that section! I wanted to have at least one chapter where Laura and "the boys" hang out together without the rest of the corps getting involved, so I hope this chapter goes over well! It's a bit longer than usual, I think..._

_I'm also working on The Season with dutchesscourtney and The Pterodatcyl, so I'm very happy that many of the Hearts Of Glass fans are also reading and reviewing that story as well!_

_Thanks again and tell me what you think! I thank every single one of you for supporting the story! Onward!_

* * *

**Laura And The Boys**

Laura had agreed to meet at Jake's house, which was just a few miles away from the college the corps had been practicing at all winter. Jon offered to pick her up, but Laura declined, not wanting to be stuck at a house with three other boys until Jon wanted to go home. If she drove, she could pick what time she wanted to leave, which would hopefully be early.

Standing in front of the mirror in her room, Laura wondered if she had dressed appropriately. She had never really been invited to hang out before by a group of guys, no matter if they were friends or not. Jeans and a nice shirt with sandals: that would be the way to go. Laura, being vain enough to take notice of her toenails and how awful she thought they looked, painted them a vibrant purple just for fun. Brushing out her short hair, Laura caught a glimpse of the clips Jake had given her for Christmas, the butterflies on the end of the clips sparkling as she picked them up and placed two in her hair. That would be good enough, right? Sighing and realizing how dorky she looked, all dressed up, Laura took out one of the clips and changed her shirt. There. Was that better?

She had no more time to worry, though, because her clock read six o'clock. Laura was supposed to be at Jake's by now. Grabbing her keys off the table and a bag of chips from the kitchen, Laura called goodbye to her parents and dashed out the door.

* * *

"I wonder what Laura looks like now," Jake commented, putting the cans of soda Thomas was handing him into the refrigerator, one by one. "I mean, I can't really imagine her with short hair, but I bet it looks good on her."

Thomas was silent as he handed the last can to Jake and folded the box to stick in the cardboard recycling bin. He had been to Jake's house many times before, the two drum majors hanging out together when things got particularly rough or when they needed some time away from the corps to discuss things. Sometimes they worked on salutes or conducting, but they mostly watched television and played the occasional video game.

"What do you think, Thomas?" Jake asked, trying to get him to talk.

"About what?"

"About Laura? About her haircut?"

"I don't know."

Jake leaned against the counter, head resting on the door of a cabinet.

"Thomas, I know you have a thing for Laura-"

"It's not a thing," Thomas said defensively, his pale face turning red. "At least, not any more."

"What do you mean, not any more? You gave her that necklace for Christmas and I thought you two had worked out your, um, differences."

"We didn't work anything out. And forget about the necklace."

"But-"

"Jake, I really don't want to talk about it. I'm here tonight to hang out before our last big practice tomorrow, before we have to meet the person who funded the corps this season."

"We're also here for Laura," Jake said carefully. "We're here to support her and prepare her for tomorrow."

"No offense, and I'm not trying to be selfish here, but why is everything always about Laura? Why can't things be the way they were before she joined?"

Jake was surprised at this, but not as surprised as he thought he would be. Apparently Thomas was still against having a woman in the corps, especially a woman who had broken his heart.

"I understand that, Thomas," he said, "I would be lying if I said I didn't think like that sometimes, too. But, the corps needs her. We need her. What's more than that, we've come to love her. I think of her like a little sister, but I know she's more than that to you. No matter how many times you tell yourself you don't like her, at least not anymore, you still feel something for her."

"How do you know how I feel?" Thomas asked, bitter.

"I know, man, I know," Jake said, getting up and patting Thomas on the shoulder, which Thomas didn't seem to appreciate.

"Where is the broom?" Thomas said, trying to change the subject. "The floor is filthy."

"In the back closet in the garage," Jake answered, not pushing the matter any further. He checked the clock; it was already six. Jon and Laura should arrive at any moment. Almost on cue, a car pulled up into the yard, right next to Thomas'. It was Jon, carrying a box of ice cream and a bag of video games and movies.

"How've you been?" Jake asked, letting Jon into the house and taking the ice cream from him. "You brought ice cream bars?"

"I figured everyone was either bringing chips or soda, so ice cream would be out of the norm."

"Come on in and make yourself at home," Jake said to Jon, steering him toward the living room. "Laura hasn't arrived yet."

"She hasn't?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"Oh, I was just- I'm afraid she won't want to come."

"Why? If it's because she'll be around guys the entire night, she could have brought a girlfriend. If she doesn't like video games, we don't have-"

"No, I just think she's a little depressed. Her hair and all."

"I suppose it would be stressful, especially since she'll be meeting the head of the corporation that's giving us all the cash for this year."

Thomas finished sweeping the kitchen floor and caught sight of Jon in the living room. Jon said hello and Thomas said hello back, rather stiffly. It was still so odd to see one another outside the corps, like the night they went to the hospital for Laura's arm. Here was the drum major sweeping the floor of another drum major's kitchen and the trumpet section leader was sitting in the living room. This made for an uncomfortable situation until Jake broke the silence.

"Well, Jon, why don't you find something good on the television and I'll chase Thomas out of the kitchen! Do you want something to drink?"

"No, not right now, thank you," Jon said, feeling suddenly formal as he realized he was sitting in the drum major's house. There was still a certain level of respect Jon had to give Jake and Jake was unhappy with it.

Finally, Laura arrived, her purse and bag of chips in hand. She was greeted at the door by Jake, who hugged Laura, crushing the chips.

"Hope you don't mind, sorry," Jake said, pulling away and taking the chips from her.

"It's okay, you're a friend!" Laura answered, her voice bright and cheery.

"Your hair! Laura, I love it."

"Thanks."

Laura's voice dropped a few notches in happiness and her face fell as Jake reached up and touched a few strands.

"It's so short," Laura said, "I hate it."

"I'm sorry," Jake said, not knowing what else to say. He didn't like to see Laura so uncomfortable and he realized they were still standing outside. "Come in! We have soda and ice cream and now we have chips, too!"

Laura entered the drum major's house, feeling nervous. Just like Jon, she was a little uncomfortable with the whole fact that the titles were dropped and the positions didn't matter for one night, at least. Laura found Jon on the couch, digging through the bag of movies at his feet. Creeping up to him, Laura tapped him on top of the head and Jon looked up, startled.

"Oh, Laura, it's you!" Jon said, relieved. "At first I thought it was Thomas! Whew!"

"Why, what's the problem between you and Thomas now?" Laura asked, taking a seat next to Jon and taking a few movie cases off the cushions to clear some space.

"Nothing we didn't have problems with before, you know," was the muffled answer as Jon brought out more movies and games.

"How many hours are were going to be here, since you brought so many things?"

"Oh, I don't know. Hamon would kill us if we weren't at our best tomorrow, especially since we have guests coming to watch our practice. Deleyney would murder us, too, if we couldn't play our instruments."

"Why would we not be able to play our instruments after watching movies?"

"Nope, video games! Our fingers will be too sore!"

"I've never played video games before."

"What?" Jon asked, stunned.

"I've played a really simple video game once with a few girlfriends, but never games like this," Laura said, flipping a video game case over to read the back.

"Well, then you have played before," Jake said, walking into the room, four ice cream bars in hand. "We'll get you fighting demons and collecting stars in no time!"

All three of them sat on the couch, Laura sandwiched between the two of them, eating their ice cream bars.

"How did you get a house like this, Jake?" Jon asked. "I mean, it's huge! How do you pay the rent?"

"It was actually my grandmother's house," Jake said, licking the stick of the ice cream bar clean and then turning to the wrapper. "She moved away with my grandfather a few years ago, just when I had turned eighteen. The house was already paid for and they had a hard time trying to sell it, so they gave it to me on my birthday."

"Some present," Laura said, looking around. The house definitely needed a new coat of paint and the carpet was a matted, ugly brown, but it was a nice house all in all. It had the feel of nostalgia, with old style linoleum in the kitchen and creaky wood doors and hanging plants; it reminded Laura of her own grandparent's house. "You were really lucky!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought!" Jake said, continuing. "My parents were fine with it and it's really close to the college. That way I can get to class and practice without spending a lot on gas. I could even walk there if I wanted."

In the silence after Jake stopped talking, there were sounds of sweeping in the kitchen and they all realized Thomas was still there.

"Hey, Thomas," Jake called, "Your ice cream is going to melt!"

"The floor is clean," Thomas answered, ignoring Jake's previous statement. There was the sound of a door opening and closing as Thomas went to return the broom to the garage.

"I don't know what's up with him tonight," Jake lied, knowing Thomas didn't want to be around Laura. "Whenever he comes over, he's always on edge."

"Isn't he always on edge?" Jon asked, leaning back against the couch.

"Yeah. It's just Thomas for you, though. I think he's nervous about tomorrow, too."

"Don't even mention tomorrow," Laura said, shaking her head as she offered the last of her ice cream to Jon, who took it. "I don't know if I'm supposed to be a girl or a boy tomorrow."

"I think you have to pretend to be a boy in front of everyone else, but I'm sure the lady from the sponsors is going to want to talk with you personally. Then you can be a girl."

"I think that's pretty twisted that you have to decide whether or not you are going to be a boy or a girl on any given day," Thomas said, walking into the room and sitting down on a recliner. He must have been extremely quiet to not have anyone else notice him coming back in from the garage.

"I agree," Jon said, obviously trying to be pleasant. Thomas looked down his nose at Jon and the section leader went back to finishing Laura's ice cream, chewing on the stick.

"Well, why don't we dig into a video game or something?" Jake said, "How about you pick, Laura?"

"I don't know what to play," Laura said, honestly not wanting to choose a game. Looking them all over, they were all about war and violence and sports. "Since this is Jake's house and he's been such a great host, he can pick the game!"

"Okay," Jake said, pleased. He promptly picked a sports game and stuffed it into the player. "We only have two controllers, though, so who wants to sit out?"

"I will," Thomas said, "I've never been very interested in video games."

"I'll stay out this time, too," Laura said. "I would rather watch you two play and get a hang of it before trying it myself."

Jake apologized to Jon for the fact they would have to sit on the floor while playing since the cords didn't reach to the couch and the two boys hung out on the floor. Thomas, after a few moments, got up and joined Laura on the couch.

"Your hair," he said, "It still looks nice."

"Thank you," Laura said quietly, pulling her feet up beside her on the cushions and Thomas sat a little closer. For some reason, when he said her hair looked nice, she believed it.

* * *

It was getting very late by the time Laura became tired. She found it was hard to keep her eyes open as Jake and Jon played video games late into the night. Thomas had joined in on the games only when Jake needed him to cover for him as the host went to grab more chips or soda, returning to play the game and Thomas returning to the couch to sit next to Laura. He laid his arm across the back of the couch and Laura leaned against it. His fingers occasionally touched her hair, but she couldn't tell if it was by accident or on purpose. They snacked on chips and drank their soda as Jon battled Jake on the television, Jake losing miserably most of the time.

"Are you asleep?" Thomas asked quietly.

"No. I'm going to be soon, though."

"Do you need a ride home?"

"I drove here; I think I'll be fine."

In the atmosphere of the room, two lamps lit on either side of the couch as Jon and Jake sat on the floor in the dark, their faces reflecting the moving lights from the television, Laura felt even sleepier. The fact she would have to go march in a few hours depressed her; she was never going to get enough sleep to make up for tonight.

"When do we leave for camp?" she asked, wanting to talk with Thomas even if she knew the answers to her questions. It had been months since the night she had told him it wasn't going to work out between them, since the night she offered to give the necklace back. She hoped he had forgiven her. He probably hadn't.

"The day after tomorrow," Thomas answered. "Are you all set?"

"What do we need to bring?"

"Nearly everything. As long as you can fit it into a suitcase and a duffel bag, you can bring it."

"We can bring both of them?"

"Yeah. The bag can hold the things you use everyday and then the suitcase can hold all your clothes and shoes. Mr. Hamon will be talking about all that tomorrow."

"Doesn't it seem a bit late to be talking about what we should bring the day before we leave? What if people need to get something they forgot or-"

"That's the marching director for you. He's going to turn into a bear again starting tomorrow, so the nice guy you've been seeing all winter is going to disappear."

"That was him being nice?"

"Yes."

Thomas could feel Laura's head against his arm and wanted to put his hand on her shoulder, but didn't. He wanted her to lean against him and to fall asleep, but Thomas knew that was never going to happen. There was still a part of him that liked her, like Jake had said earlier, but Thomas knew that he also disliked her for what she had said to him, for pushing him away just as soon as he was ready to let his guard down. She had offered to give back the necklace he had gifted her with and that hurt deeper than any words.

"Agh! You did it again!" Jake cried, dropping his controller into his lap as his character lost the battle with Jon again and dropped to the ground in a pool of simulated blood. "Why?"

"Because that's the point of the game," Jon answered, grabbing some chips out of the near empty bowl between them, "And because I can and it's fun!"

"I can give you push ups and say it's fun because I can, but I don't," Jake said mischievously.

"Was that a threat?"

"Nope."

The section leader and head drum major were becoming fast friends and Jon restarted the game.

Thinking of the night Thomas made her do all those push ups, testing her, showing the other members how weak she was, Laura felt less comfortable with Thomas' arm behind her, sitting so close to her. She woke up a little, the memory making her angry and the anger making her less sleepy.

"Boys, I hate to say it, but I'm going to have to call it a night," she said, getting up off the couch.

"Oh, why?" Jon said, once again defeating Jake's character.

"It's getting late and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. And the day after that," Laura said. "We're never going to be able to catch up on sleep!"

"We're boys," Jake said, "We don't need sleep! We stay awake and fresh all the time!"

"But I'm still a girl," Laura said, smiling, "I need my sleep."

Jon paused the game and hugged Laura goodbye.

"Sorry we sort of played games all night and left you alone."

"No, I really enjoyed watching it," Laura lied, her smile wider. "Now, next time we play, I'll know how."

"Bye, Laura," Jake said, also hugging her. "I'm glad you were able to come over for a few hours, at least. Hope you weren't too bored."

"Nope, I wasn't. I had a good time."

"Nice hair clips, by the way," Jake added as he sat down on the floor again, winking at Laura.

"I'll walk you to the door," Thomas said, getting off the couch and creeping through the mess on the floor. Laura nodded and grabbed her purse off the table and Thomas opened the door for her. They both stood outside on the front step, Thomas shutting the door behind them.

Bugs were circling the porch light and the moon was high in the sky, casting very little light. Laura noticed that the moon in the winter was brighter and meant more to her than the moon in the summer, although it was beautiful no matter what season it was. The warm summer air promised heat the next day and the tree branches with the budding leaves swayed in a light breeze.

"I guess this is goodnight," Thomas said, unsure of what to do.

"I guess so," Laura said, uncomfortable. Thomas had never spoken to her personally without a group of people around them since their fight months ago. It was the first time they had been alone together since then.

"I- I'm- I hope you enjoyed tonight."

"To be honest, I was bored. I really enjoyed it because you guys were there for me, even though we just played video games and ate junk food. I probably would have sat at home, depressed, otherwise."

"I should have known to get everyone together like this," Thomas said after a few moments of awkward silence. "Jon knew, though, and I didn't."

"Jon knows me," Laura said bluntly. She was too tired to care at the moment and, even if she wasn't tired, Laura wasn't sure if she would reassure him or not.

"He does," Thomas said, nodding in reluctant agreement. "Anyway, you should be getting home."

"I agree," Laura said, walking toward her car and away from Thomas where he stood on the steps. "Goodnight."

Getting into her car and buckling her seat belt, Laura wasn't sure if she was imagining the awful noise coming from her car as she turned the key or if it was real. After trying and failing several times to get her car started, Laura rested her head on the steering wheel. Great. Now she would have to call her parents this early in the morning and have one of them pick her up. Laura didn't even want to think about how much trouble she would be, much less how she would get her car home and fixed. She heard a knock on the window and jumped.

"I'll give you a ride home," Thomas said, his car keys in hand.

* * *

_That was the end! Sorry, guys! I have so many people right now, groaning about the fact they don't get to hear what happens on the car ride home! So many people just love Thomas, I think... Thank you for reading and hopefully I'll get a review or two! Thank you again and hope you have a great day!_


	47. The Car Ride And Interview

_Hello, everyone. After getting so many reviews saying "Why didn't you write about the car ride? Why?" I decided that instead of posting an explination of why I had did what I did for the chapters, I was going to humor you guys and re-write it. I had a few things planned out, but I scratched those and re-did this chapter to lead the story in a new direction. If this chapter seems rushed, it's probably because I'm rushed and there is not very much time for me to write anymore. _

_I'm still always going to work on Hearts, but since the story is almost to fifty chapters and we are not to the end yet, I've decided that, in order to get this published, I'm going to go back, change things, and generally tighten up the story. Don't worry, it'll still be your favorite story and I'm not going to do that for a long time yet, anyway._

_One of Heart's readers has started a Facebook community for Hearts Of Glass, so if you have a Facebook, please hop on over there and join up! http://hs. I want to say thank you to RosalieLillianHale for doing this. The LiveJournal community is still out there, too, so this story is slowly growing into more than just an FFN thing!_

_Thank you for reviewing and taking a look at the previous version of this chapter and please review. Did you like the old version better or the updated, new version? Thanks for all the comments in previous chapters, too! (In my own, personal life, I had my first winter drumline performance the other day and we took second out of three lines. Considering it was our first time ever, that's pretty good! I'm bruised and sore, but happy! I figured I owed everyone an explination on why it took me this long to get this chapter re-written and posted! Practice!!!)_

**

* * *

The Car Ride And Interview**

Laura got out of her car, but not before giving the steering wheel a shake in frustration.

"Now how am I going to get this home?" she asked no one in particular as she slammed the door. "I-"

"I'm sure Jake won't mind if you leave it in his driveway for a few days," Thomas answered, unlocking his own car door.

"We leave for camp tomorrow, though."

"Your parents aren't going to be around?"

Laura thought for a moment. Thomas had a point. She didn't live too far away and, if her father could just get it running again to drive it to the nearest repair shop, there wouldn't be a problem. She wasn't even sure what was wrong; her father probably knew."I suppose I can tell them when they wake up tomorrow morning that my car is at a friend's house and it won't start," Laura said, walking over to Thomas' car. To her surprise, Thomas walked around the car after unlocking his door, opened her door, and waited for her to get in. Laura sat carefully in the passenger seat, smiling to herself as Thomas made sure nothing would be caught in the door as he closed it.

Thomas' car started without a problem and Laura gave him directions to her house. When she wasn't talking, though, there was an uncomfortable silence. Thomas didn't have the radio on and Laura wasn't about to ask him if she could mess with the stereo. They could sit in silence and still be comfortable, right? But, after a few minutes, Laura couldn't stand the lack of conversation.

"So, what is camp like?" she asked, "I've never been to a corps camp before."

"Have you been to camp in general?"

"Nope."

"Not even band camp?"

Laura felt herself blushing. Her band had been too poor to afford a real camp; she had never taken drum major classes or leadership courses, either. Now, at the thought of going to a different college, somewhere she couldn't go home as soon as practice was over, staying in a dorm with other boys... it was exhilarating and scary at the same time.

"I doubt Mr. Deleyney is going to let you out of his sight. You'll be under constant supervision the first week."

"Is that because I'm a girl?"

"It's because you're new."

"Oh."

The silence resumed, continuing on unbroken until Thomas pulled into Laura's driveway. He parked the car and went to open Laura's door for her. He even gave her his hand as she came out of the car. Laura felt like an idiot. Thomas had always been a true, chivalrous Knight, but the whole act was getting old.

"You don't have to do that," she said, pulling her hand away after he shut the car door. "You don't always have to be a Knight."

"Why not?" Thomas asked, looking just as confused as Laura felt. "Why can't I open doors for you and help you-"

"Because I'm supposed to be a guy, remember? I don't know if I'm supposed to be a girl at camp or even what's going on tomorrow! I don't know what to do, Thomas, and every time you treat me like this, it gets me even more confused!"

The two stood there in her driveway, Laura bowing her head. She felt so embarrassed having said those things, but she felt better just the same. Thomas nodded his head, regaining his composure.

"If that's how you feel, I'll take care to make you less uncomfortable in the future."

With that, Thomas said goodnight and got back in his car, pulling out of the driveway. Laura felt alone and cold, standing in the driveway, watching the lights of Thomas' car get smaller as he drove away and finally disappearing when he turned a corner.

Why did she always have to ruin those moments with Thomas, especially now that those moments were going to be fewer and farther between now they were heading off to camp?

Walking into the house, locking the door carefully behind her, Laura crept off to bed, but not before writing a note and sticking it on the kitchen table that her car had stalled at a friend's house and she had gotten a ride home. She wished her car was in the driveway at the moment, though, and that Thomas never had to give her a ride home.

* * *

Laura had missed the big meeting, regrettably missing a lot of information and discussion she should have been a part of. The representative of the corporation that was sponsoring The Knights this year had come that morning and had wanted to speak to Laura alone, unfortunately right over the time the rest of the corps was gathering for basic information and answers to any questions new members might have.

It was a nice spring day, the crisp air mingling oddly with the sunlight, confusing Laura on whether she should be cold or hot in her uniform. She had gotten into her uniform with Jon's help, her friend sneaking into the girl's bathroom once more to adjust her uniform as she pinned her hair up under her hat. She had tried to find and talk with one of the directors on what she was supposed to do today if and when the corporation representative wanted to talk with her. Laura's confusion was growing as Mr. Hamon lined the corps up on the practice field, preparing to give them a speech before Mr. Deleyney arrived with the representative. Paul was giving the guard the same talk Mr. Hamon was going to give everyone else Laura bet, watching Paul as he walked around the guard, making a few of them straighten up and adjusted grips on flags and rifles.

On their podiums, Jake and Thomas gestured back and forth, communicating without making a sound. Jake and Thomas were dressed in their drum major uniforms and looked stunning. Laura thought Thomas looked as handsome as ever as he pulled on his hat and adjusted the brim so it shaded his eyes. She felt her face flush and quickly focused her attention elsewhere. She was still upset about last night, even though she knew she shouldn't be. It was her own stupid fault and she couldn't be mad at Thomas. But, she had prevented him from treating her like a princess. She had told the directors she wasn't going to deal with that anymore and, somewhere in her mind, Laura was pleased she told him off.

Mr. Hamon joined Thomas on his podium, the Assistant Drum Major moving over enough to give the marching director space. Laura saw Thomas' eyes sweep over her as he watched the corps stand at attention and she tried not to feel too self conscious.

"Someone is here today to look us over," Mr. Hamon said, projecting his voice. "This person was a leading force behind finding the money to sponsor us and she's expecting a performance. While you're playing, keep what I say now in the back of your head: this could be one of the most important shows you give, even though we're not playing the entire thing and only your directors and Ms. Beth Marret will be watching. We are out to impress, is that understood?"

Laura answered, "Yes, sir!" in the deepest voice she could as she stood at her best attention. Mr. Hamon stepped off Thomas' podium and the two drum majors followed him, going to meet the visitor, who was coming down the bleachers with Mr. Deleyney. Beth Marret was a very nice lady, in her mid-thirties, arriving to practice a little too dressed up in Laura's opinion. Mr. Hamon shook her hand and patted her shoulder, introducing her to the drum majors. Laura couldn't hear what they were saying, only seeing their lips move from where she was on the field, but she felt a pang of jealousy as Thomas bowed low before Ms. Marret, doing exactly what Jake was doing. Jake even went as far as to flatter her by kissing her hand, which Ms. Marret seemed perfectly happy with.

Paul went up from the field, leaving his colorguard and joining the other directors and the visitor in the bleachers. Laura could see him sigh, knowing as well as he did that it was a risk having the corps perform their first movement of the show before they had even gone to camp. Laura bet the directors felt just as relieved as she did that the corps was only going to perform one of the songs of the show because she didn't have the last two movements memorized yet.

Jake and Thomas mounted the podiums, turning to salute the four adults in the stands before raising their arms to the members of the corps, preparing to give the downbeat and start the show. Laura's nerves were on edge and she was surprised at the burst of energy she had while moving across the field to her first set. She brought her trumpet to her lips and played as well as she could, trying to imagine the music in front of her while recalling the counts of the sets at the same time. Plus, Laura was watching where her feet were at all times, paying attention to the drum majors, and keeping in mind how she stood as she locked in and out of positions.

She bet that, if she wasn't so aware of the four people in the stands, if she hadn't been thinking so hard about what she had to do next, she wouldn't have gotten out of step. But she did and, even though she was only wrong for a few measures, she was still wrong and bet Mr. Hamon was making a mental note to put her through an hour's worth of drill practice later on after Ms. Marret left.

Thankful when their short performance for the representative was over, Laura fought back a sigh of relief and stood at attention while Ms. Marret stood and walked with Mr. Hamon down the bleacher steps and to the field. The click of her heels on the metal stairs was painful to hear, the hollow thud of impending doom, Laura thought. Ms. Marret didn't like it. She didn't like the show at all and she was going to change her mind about The Knights. Could she really take all the money back, even after Mr. Hamon had spent most of it already on bills and other expenses The Knights needed to take care of before hitting the road? Laura became worried as Ms. Marret passed her, stiffening up. Laura still had no clue if she was supposed to pretend to be one of the guys or not, unable to get a hold of one of the directors to talk to before practice. She thought they would at least tell her that much.

"Now, which one of you is the girl?" Ms. Marret asked, all the way across the field from where Laura was standing.

"I believe she's-" Mr. Hamon started, but Ms. Marret turned away from him, wanting to guess on her own.

"It's not you, or you, or you," she commented, looking up and down the lines and under the brims of hats. After a ridiculously long time of Mr. Hamon humoring Ms. Marret, she stopped in front of Laura and took a peek under her hat.

"You have feminine eyes," she commented, making Laura bite her lip to keep from crying out it was because she was a girl. "You must be her."

"My name is Laura."

"Ah-ha! Here she is!"

Ms. Marret took off Laura's hat and waved it around, Mr. Deleyney and Paul smiling humorously as Mr. Hamon lifted a hand to his face to cover his disgust. Laura felt like she was a piece of meat on display, feeling eyes on her as Ms. Marret asked if Laura wouldn't mind talking with her alone for a little bit. She asked the same thing of the directors, who waved their approval.

As Laura was drug off the field, she tried to remember that every word she said to this lady would reflect on the corps. Remember, Laura told herself, I'm happy here, not at all uncomfortable, or teased, or put in uncomfortable situations, or have a 'thing' with one of the drum majors. I'm just one of the guys. Only, I'm a girl.

* * *

Laura sat across from the corporation representative, Beth Marret, on the edge of her hair. Her hair, pinned so not a bit would show from under her hat, made her feel self conscious the air from a nearby vent blowing against her neck bothering her. Laura wasn't used to having her hair up at all and, considering this was the first time she had been in her Knights uniform for more than a few minutes, sitting was uncomfortable because she was nervous of wrinkling her pants. She heard Mr. Hamon considered wrinkled uniforms almost as bad as chewing gum at practice, which was a huge offense in his book of rules.

"So, your name is Laura, right?" Ms. Marret asked, sitting down across from Laura and smiling so all her teeth shone. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Laura said, trying not to stammer as she held her hand out to take Ms. Marret's and shake it. Ms. Marret brushed Laura's fingers with her own and Laura pulled her hand back, a bit worried. Had she already messed up?

"I hope you enjoyed the preview of the show," Laura prompted, trying to make conversation. "Those were only the first bits of it. In the end, an entire dragon comes and-"

"I know, dear, your marching director sent me the clip from his program over the computer," Ms. Marret said, cutting Laura off as gently as possible. "How do you like being a Knight, dear?"

"Oh," Laura said, taken by surprise. The lady had changed the subject so soon, cutting right to the point. Laura supposed she had thought of this interview going a different way, but answered the question. "I like it just fine. Ever since I saw the Knights last summer, I had wanted to become involved with their program."

"I think you misunderstood my question, honey," Ms. Marret said, her eyes not as soft as before. "I meant how have you gotten along pretending to be a boy?"

"It's been difficult," Laura admitted, wishing Jon or Thomas was with her at that moment. It was a bit scary answering these strange questions from a person to vital to the corps. "When we go to public places or when someone isn't supposed to know me, I'm called Lee."

"Do the rest of the boys in the corps know?"

"Yes," she answered, wondering if she was supposed to tell the truth. Ms. Marret wiggled excitedly in her seat.

"Any romance, dear?"

"Um, why?"

Laura was baffled. She didn't even know this lady and she was being asked to divulge some very personal information. Why was Ms. Marret asking this?

"Just curious, dear, you don't need to look so worried!" Ms. Marret said, reaching over and patting Laura's hand. Laura wanted to pull her hand away and leave, but, knowing that would be the death blow to The Knights should Ms. Marret become so angry she took back the money the corps so desperately needed.

"I was hoping I could get to know you better through, you know, a little girl talk, dear," Ms. Marret continued, straightening her skirt. "After all, there are some very handsome young men here! That drum major with the blue eyes! He's something special!"

Laura could feel her face go red. Did this woman know something about Laura that Laura was never told about? Had someone put Ms. Marret up to these questions, to this conversation? Did one of the directors or even Jake say something to this lady?

"Ah, so there IS something there!" Ms. Marret squealed. She seemed so excited she would leap out of her chair, but thankfully stayed where she was and didn't pat Laura's hand anymore. "I won't say anything more about it, then! I know a girl's gotta keep her secrets!"

As Ms. Marret winked, Laura became more and more curious why this lady was even sponsoring the corps. She didn't dare ask, though, in case that would be rude. Laura wished one of the directors would have prepped her for this. As it was, they had been spending less and less time with her, less time with the corps members in general as everyone prepared to go to camp. She thought they would have a better grasp on the fact Laura was a naturally nervous person; didn't they know her well enough to at least give her some support before she had to face this woman? But, why did she need support? Why did she need assurance? Maybe this was a test.

"Ma'am," Laura began, but Ms. Marret cut her off.

"Call me Beth, dear."

"Um, Beth, can I ask you why you've taken such an interest in The Knights? Why would you want to sponsor us only if there is a female member when The Knights have always been boys?"

Ms. Marret looked a bit taken aback, but carefully composed herself once more.

"You want to know right away, don't you?" she asked, not unkindly, but not as loving as before. "I suppose you have a right to know about me, considering I've been trying to find out so much about you."

"I'm the president of the company that's sponsoring The Knights," Ms. Marret said, "I remember my brother was a member of this corps, a long time ago. The Knights have been around for over thirty years, you know? My sister and I were jealous and being a part of any other corps wasn't good enough. After I realized there was no chance of a member of the fairer sex becoming a Knight, I gave up my marching hopes and pursued business. If I couldn't be a Knight, I wasn't going to complain."

"My sister, on the other hand, wasn't going to give up. She auditioned, showing up disguised as a young man. She would have been accepted because of her percussion expertise, but she was found out for what she was before the audition was over because of a loud mouthed, keen eyed drum major who was sitting in with the directors during her audition. He could tell she was a girl, exposed her for what she was, and my sister's dreams were dashed. She tried to audition the next year, and the year after that, but the directors remembered her from then on and always kept her name from getting on their list. She marched with other corps, but it wasn't the same to her. She eventually aged out of another corps and, until her death a year ago, she always bought tickets to any show The Knights were at."

"I'm sorry your sister died," Laura said softly, trying to look depressed. Inside, she was practically leaping for joy because she was finding out why they wanted her in the corps!

"It was cancer," Ms. Marret said, sniffling daintily. "We loved her very much and, when I found out her favorite corps was in trouble, I decided to sponsor their tour this year. But, I never really thought it was fair that, just because my sister was a woman, she couldn't be included in something she loved so much. The men had all the fun and she was on the outside, excluded, told she had to go somewhere else."

Ms. Marret smiled a cunning smile and waved her hand nonchalantly.

"Well, I suppose you know the rest of why I'm giving The Knights money. The current agreement says that, as long as there is at least one female in the corps, my company will sponsor The Knights and their activities. That's where you come in, dear! You're their lucky charm!"

Laura found herself loving and hating this woman very much at the same time. She loved Ms. Marret because she was doing such a kind thing in honor of her sister and the corps she loved, but hated her because of the way she made Laura feel like such a pawn. She was just a piece in the big board game Ms. Marret was playing with Mr. Deleyney and the other directors.

"My dear, you even look a little like my sister," Ms. Marret said, grinning. Laura found this a little odd because Ms. Marret had short blond hair and blue eyes and a figure Laura knew she would never have. Aren't sisters supposed to look something alike? She doubted Ms. Marret's sister looked like her, but Laura wasn't going to argue.

"On your way around the county, to camp and events and eventually championships, could you do me a little favor, sweetie?"

Nodding like a fool, Laura agreed, not knowing what it was Ms. Marret was asking of her.

"Could you write me some letters? I'm an old woman now and I'm not able to share in any of these exciting experiences. If you could send me a note or two on your travels, that would make me ever so happy!"

Laura nodded again and knew she better invest in some stationary. If the directors heard Ms. Marret wanted Laura to write their sponsor letters during their tour, Laura bet Mr. Hamon would make sure she wrote and mailed one off every day.

"You're not old," Laura muttered, feeling embarrassed for being such a pet. Laura wanted to be as nice as possible to Ms. Marret, now that she found out the truth on why she was sponsoring the corps.

"Thank you, dear," Ms. Marret said, throwing up her hands and getting up. "I sure like hearing that! What a sweet thing you are!"

Laura felt herself enveloped in a cloud of strong perfume and being held tight in fleshy arms. Putting on a smile, she followed Beth out of the room as the lady suggested they go and find the rest of the corps. They had probably come indoors and out of the sun, going through their travel plans.

Good thing, too, because if Laura had to endure being called "sweetie," "dear," or "honey" one more time, she wasn't sure if she could keep her mouth shut.

* * *

_So, I hope this explains a lot! I'm really pleased this re-write is over and now I can start putting the new ideas of camp together and post a few more chapters in upcoming weeks. Thanks again for reading and please leave me a comment/review/message. I love hearing from everyone! Happy Reading!_


	48. Going To Camp

_Hello, everyone! Here is the latest chapter! Thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter; I'm so sorry I didn't realize that FFN will not let you post more than one review of a chapter, so thank you to all of you who took the time to PM me, ect... to let me know what they thought! We're at 299 reviews right now, so we'll hit 300+ from this chapter on! I'm so excited!_

_I have to admit I'm getting a little burned out on this story. I know it's because the story is so long and I have so much information and so many scenes out there that are "cluttering" everything up. Going back and re-reading the story, I've made a list of things I'm going to take out, things I'm going to add in, things I'm going to expand on, ect... and, even though I'm probably going to have the same length in the "publishable" version, it's going to be better and more "corps-accurate." So, I'm talking with a friend about editing and I'm going to get some help keeping this story up to a high standard!_

_The link to the Facebook community didn't work on the last chapter, so please visit my profile for that link if you're interested! It would be great to have the readers who also have a Facebook participate in various discussions, ect..._

_(On a personal note, I had my second ever drumline competition last night, part of the reason why I'm so tired I can't even spell properly today! We took last, but that's okay! I talked with a few people about Hearts Of Glass and I'm going to get some current and former corps members to help me out on the way a season for a drum corps like The Knights is actually run. Thanks to everyone who wished us good luck!)_

_Here we go!_

**

* * *

Going To Camp**

Laura tried to get her suitcase up the bus steps, failing as the wheels slid back down the plastic grooves of the steps to hit the pavement with a sharp smack. Rolling her eyes, Laura tried again with the same result. Thank goodness no one was around to see her make such a fool of herself. She had brought her bags into the auditorium first, but Mr. Hamon had said to bring the suitcase out to the bus. After placing her duffel into an auditorium seat, she wheeled the large, heavy suitcase out to the parking lot. With no bus driver in sight, but the bus door open, Laura naturally assumed she was supposed to bring her suitcase on the bus.

"Hey, what're you doin'?" snapped an unfamiliar male voice. The driver of the bus walked up the aisle toward his seat, pink in the face. He was a heavy set man in a driver's uniform, wearing a cap with a bus pin on the front of it.

"I'm trying to-" Laura said, struggling one last time to get the suitcase up the stairs. The driver put a hand on her arm and roughly pushed her out of the bus, Laura tripping down the stairs backwards, trying to regain her balance. Her suitcase bounced and fell behind Laura, causing her to sit down on it as she reached the pavement.

"You'll damage the bus if you drag that thing on here! Put it in the undercarriage!"

"Sir, the doors to the undercarriage aren't open!"

The driver looked at Laura like he had never seen another human before and waddled down the bus steps, nearly stepping on Laura's feet. Laura jumped up and straightened her suitcase, placing it back on it's wheels, following the driver. Without saying a word, the driver opened a door to the cargo area under the bus and walked away. Apparently, it was already unlocked and all Laura would have had to do was twist the little knob at the top. The driver must think she was stupid.

"That was just great," Laura muttered, "I didn't know I would ruin the freaking bus! Why doesn't-"

"Who are you talking to?" asked someone from behind her, this person familiar. It was Jake, with his own suitcase, wearing a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"Myself," Laura answered, "I tried to bring the suitcase on the bus."

"Oh, yeah, we can't do that," Jake said, storing his suitcase, a horrific plaid-like, zipper ridden thing, under the bus with ease. Without saying a word, he stashed Laura's suitcase along side his and dusted his hands. There were already a few suitcases under the bus, packed carefully in the corners to allow more room for other baggage.

"I didn't know."

"I guess it's just one of those things you figure out either when you see other people doing it or when the driver yells at you for ruining the bus steps."

"Oh," Laura said, nodding her head. "What are you so happy about, Jake?"

"I love camp!"

Jake seemed even more giddy now that his suitcase was packed away. He was twiching his fingers, all the excess energy pent up inside. Laura was amazed at how animated he seemed, even more than usual.

"Sorry again about the car in your yard," Laura said, trying to make conversation as they left the parking lot and entered the school, heading to the auditorium.

"No problem. As long as your dad comes and gets it by the time we get back from tour, it'll be fine!"

Laura laughed along with him, but stopped as soon as she saw Thomas. Thomas was standing by the auditorium doors, plain black duffel bag at his feet, his ice eyes focused on a spot on the wall beside him. Laura was almost satisfied to note that he had a hint of shadow under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept well. His hair was as blond as ever, but had a slightly ruffled texture to it, and his clothes hung off his thin frame.

"How're you doing, man?" Jake asked, walking up and clapping Thomas on the back. "You look a little tough!"

"I'm fine, thank you," Thomas said, his voice snapping like a whip. "How are you?"

"Great!" Jake said, bouncing on his feet. "I'm pumped to go! I just loaded our suitcases and now I just want to get this meeting over with to get on the bus!"

Laura could feel Jake's energy seep into her a little bit, making her forget about the suitcase incident. She was getting excited, but couldn't forget last night, the depressed feeling she had in the pit of her stomach as she told Thomas not to be such a gentleman to her anymore. Thinking back on it, what sort of request was that? The first month or two with The Knights had been awful because he was treating her like one of the guys while she wanted his attention. Did she really want to go back to that?

"My suitcase is under the bus as well," Thomas said, looking supremely bored. "People will start arriving soon and we'll get the meeting started."

"Is this the same meeting I missed last night?" Laura asked hopefully.

"Naw, this is just bus rules and stuff," Jake said, "It's funny because, really, there are no rules."

"Oh," Laura said. She didn't feel much like talking anymore. Jake tried to engage Thomas in a conversation as Laura went and sat in the theater, waiting for Jon to arrive. It was really going to happen. She was starting her tour with The Knights, going to training camp.

* * *

After the short meeting, which mostly consisted of Mr. Hamon stressing the fact that if you break a part on the bus, you buy it, the Knights were dismissed onto their busses. Trying to keep from getting trampled from excited boys, Laura grabbed her duffel and tried to get on the bus. Embarrassingly enough, her duffel got caught on the edge of almost every seat, causing a great thumping noise. As she struggled to get to where Jon was sitting, a few boys who had already taken a seat pushed Laura's bag away from them as it hit their seats. Losing her balance, Laura practically fell into Jon as she ran the last few feet toward her seat, collapsing in a heap and a sigh.

"Problems?" Jon asked good heartedly as he helped Laura up.

"Stupid bag," she muttered, trying to stuff it under her chair.

"You can put that in the storage rack above our seats, you know?" Jon asked, "I could do it for you if you don't want to get up."

"That would involve you climbing over me and blocking the path of everyone wanting to get to their seats," Laura snapped.

"Okay," Jon shrugged, never losing his smile. "I just wanted to help."

Laura apologized for losing her temper and Jon accepted it, grining even wider. Together, they settled in their seats and Laura, sitting in the aisle seat, kept getting smacked with other duffels. Soon, Mr. Deleyney walked onto the bus and, talking through the bus speaker system, made his announcements.

"I hope you've all found your seats," he said, holding a clipboard and a large stack of papers in his arms. "Like I said in the auditorium, younger members sit up front while older members sit in the back. If there are no problems with where you're sitting, this will be your seat for the rest of the summer."

Laura had sat where Jon was, near the front of the bus, so she hoped she wasn't in the wrong spot. She listened carefully, however, as Mr. Deleyney went on.

"We'll meet the promotions stand and cook truck at camp. The three other busses will follow this one and Mr. Klee will drive the van and storage trailer. You are to always get on this bus and stay on this bus until we tell you to get off. We are keeping our transportation system at the highest level of security, so if you see anything suspicious or have any concerns, please let myself, another director, or your drum majors know."

Laura, looking over the seats in front of her, was surprised to see Thomas and Jake, sitting in the frontmost seats. Weren't older members supposed to sit in the back? She knew Thomas was going to be on her bus, but didn't expect she was going to be staring at the back of his head the entire summer.

"This is Bus #1," Mr. Deleyney said, "This bus has no maid, meaning you must pick up after yourself, keep it clean, and don't destroy anything. This is your home for the summer."

A few roudy boys in the back started to cheer and clap, giving high fives and stomping their feet. The excitement caught on and even Laura felt her spirits lift as Jon started to bounce around, acting silly. Mr. Deleyney smiled and took a seat across the aisle from the drum majors, pulling out his cell phone. After a few quick moments of conversation with someone, he snapped it shut again and the busses pulled out of the parking lot.

They were on their way.

* * *

After an hour or two, the chaos died down and, as the day went on, people either fell asleep, listened to their personal music players, or pulled out handheld video games. Not many people held conversations; in fact, the only people Laura heard speaking were Mr. Deleyney on his phone and Jake and Thomas in a quiet argument. Listening closer, Laura could make out snippets of conversation, involving conducting styles and who could cue in what group at what time. Nothing that concerned or even interested Laura. Jon had fallen asleep, like he had warned her he would.

"The sound of the bus engine puts me to sleep better than a long day of hard work," Jon joked. "You're not going to be able to wake me up easily once I've drifted off!"

Laura hoped he was joking, considering there were a few boys who had always disliked Laura sitting less than a few feet away from her. If they decided to give her any trouble, she was going to want Jon to at least be awake for her. But, at the moment no one was even paying attention to Laura and Jon was dozing, chin on his chest. Jon had the window seat, too, there wasn't much to see with Jon's head blocking most of the view. Sighing, Laura pulled out a book and started to read, ignoring the sound of Mr. Deleyney's voice as he talked on his phone.

The bus stopped in the late afternoon at a travel station, Laura waking Jon so he could come and buy food if he wanted to. Many members of the corps, especially those who had spent more than one season with The Knights, had packed their own food, but there was a fast food restaurant inside the gas station, a temptation many couldn't resist. Laura felt sorry for the few workers there were at the station and, as Jon ordered food for both Laura and himself, Laura bought bags of snacks and bottles of water and soda. She decided she was going to like being bus partners with Jon because they had already set up a great food system. They would exchange cash, depending on what they were going to get and then, while Laura would buy bus food, Jon would buy meal food. "Meal food" was going to be whatever they had to order and eat off the bus, the bus drivers adamant on keeping ketchup and other condiments off the bus. A few Knights grumbled about this, but were assured by older members that the bus drivers would eventually give up and the corps could bring whatever they wanted on the bus as long as they didn't make an absolute mess out of it.

Back on the bus, Laura and Jon shared Laura's music player, a fellow trumpet player and friend of Jon's lending them an earphone splitter. Eventaully, as the sky grew dark and the lights on the bus were dimmed, Laura felt herself grow sleepy. Jon was already asleep, his head bobbing up and down.

"How far is camp?" Laura asked the trumpet player behind her seat, the same boy who had lent Jon the splitter. He was a nice guy, almost as nice as Jon, and Laura was happy he was sitting behind her.

"A few more hours," the boy said, "I remember we drove through the night last year and got there at some unreasonable hour. Getting no sleep and then marching the next day is the worst ever."

"Are we going to stop sometime during the night?"

"Nope. When you wake up, we'll be at camp," the boy said, sounding as sleepy as Laura felt. "My name's Christopher, by the way. You can call me Chris."

"Thanks, Chris. I'm Laura."

"Believe me, I know who you are," Chris joked. "Who is this corps doesn't? It's funny that, even though we're in the same section, we've never talked before now."

"It really is," Laura said, starting to drift off. "Goodnight."

Pulling her blanket out of the duffel bag under her feet, Laura wrapped it around herself, draping some of the warm purple flannel over Jon, too. As Mr. Deleyney finally flipped his phone shut and stuck it in his pocket and as Jake and Thomas still discussed conducting, Laura fell into a quiet sleep, daring to smile just a little bit.

* * *

Laura was rudely awoken by the bright lights of the bus flipping on and Mr. Hamon's voice coming over the speakers.

"Wake up, Knights! You're at camp now! Get your bags, suitcases, and instruments out from under the bus. Bring everything on the bus with you, including your garbage. Get up!"

Laura felt Jon stir and pulled her blanket off him, trying to keep it wrapped around her shoulders as she zipped her duffel bag and tried to fix her blurry vision. Jon grabbed his duffel from above their seats, climbing over Laura, almost kicking her. She was too tired to care, however, and after deciding that carrying a blanket was too much if she also had to carry everything else of hers, stuffed her blanket into the duffel.

The spring air was crisp and cleared most of the cobwebs from Laura's head as she made her way to the bus carriage, standing in line to get her suitcase. As she dragged it off the rack and let it smack on the ground, the bus driver shook his head and snorted. Laura was too tired to think up a response for this rude gesture and, after grabbing her trumpet, followed the crowd to the dorms they were going to sleep in. A university was hosting The Knight's camp and, even though it was dark outside, Laura could see a bit of a football field, framed by stadium lights, as she walked down a sidewalk with a group of trumpet players.

Mr. Hamon posted a list of names and dorm numbers on the wall of the residency building, standing back and letting the crowd gather. Laura, growing tired now that the initial excitement of arriving at camp was wearing off, felt her trumpet case grow heavy in her hands and her duffel was much too heavy for her weary shoulder. Stumbling through the crowd as people left to find their rooms, Laura skimmed through the lists, looking for her name. She found it, groaning as she realized there was probably a flight of steps involved in getting to her room.

After many minutes of searching, asking two people where the room was, and tackling a handful of steps, Laura arrived at her room for camp. Christopher, the boy that sat behind Laura on the bus, was already there, tossing his suitcase up to his bed. There were two sets of bunk beds, each against a wall. A window looking out onto the university fieldhouse was between the beds, right across from the doorway, which Laura was now standing in, staring stupidly as Christopher climbed the small ladder to his bed.

"Hey, Laura!" he said, sounding very much awake. "I guess we're in here together! Have you heard who else is boarding with us?"

"No," Laura said, her voice small. She was growing more and more tired by the minute, eventually to the point of falling asleep on her feet. "Where am I going to sleep?"

"Pick any bed!" Christopher said, opening his suitcase and putting clothes on the shelves build into the bunk. "Since you're here second, you can call the other top bunk!"

"Sorry, but that would be mine!" said a voice behind Laura. She felt wind brush her arm as something ran by her at top speed into the room and heard a creak of springs as the person jumped onto the top bunk.

"Jon, you've got to be a Knight!" Christopher exclaimed, laughing as Jon gave the mattress a few bounces. Laura smiled and shook her head.

"I don't want it," Laura said, deciding to pick the bed under Jon's. "He can have the top bunk. I'll just fall out."

"Are you sure, Laura?" Jon asked, sounding concerned. "I'm sor-"

"Don't be sorry!" Laura said, trying to sound cheerful but failing. "I'm sick of chivalry."

"Why's that?" Christopher asked, curious. "You're a Knight, after all. You're supposed to be chivalrous."

"Thomas sort of killed the beauty of chivalry for me," Laura muttered, storing her suitcase and trumpet under her bed, not bothering to unpack.

"Thomas as in our drum major?" Chris whistled. "I always thought he was the best at chivalry!"

"He is," Laura answered, pulling her blanket back out of her duffel bag and curling up on her new bed. "That's why I don't like it."

"Aw," Chris said, "Now I think I know why you got a special Christmas present from him! He's been_ too_ chivalrous."

"Ding ding ding," Laura said sarcastically. "I'm gonna go to sleep guys, okay? I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"No problem," Chris said, "Goodnight!"

"We'll keep it down for you," Jon said, "We're going to stay up and see who our other room mate is. Are you sure you don't want to stay up, too? What about changing into pajamas? We have a bathroom!"

But Laura had already fallen asleep.

* * *

_I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! Thanks very much for reading (once more, if the author's notes are getting too long, let me know... I tend to babble... gah) and if you left me a review, I would be even happier! Thanks and Happy Reading, everyone! (Next chapter, we meet a lot of new characters, so I'm working on them right now! You'll like 'em, I think!) Bye!_


	49. New Instructors

_Hello! Thank you all for the reviews, PM's, ect... I'm sorry I haven't been able to answer back lately; things have gotten so chaotic I'm hardly able to find time to check my email! Thank you all for being patient!_

_REQUEST!!!: If anyone is/knows a drum corps member, current or otherwise, who is interesting in helping with the edit of "Hearts Of Glass" for publishing, please let me know. I'm starting on the edit of the novel to take everything a step further for publishing. I want the details of a drum corps novel to be as accurate as possible to what a real drum corps would act like, ect... So, if anyone is interesting who has corps experience, that would be helpful. Sadly, this is not a service that will recieve financial gratitude. Thank you!_

**

* * *

New Instructors**

"Would all corps members report to the cafeteria?" said a voice over the speakers outside the dorm room, waking Laura up. "All corps members, report to the cafeteria."

Her mouth felt dry and, trying to move her tongue around, Laura opened her eyes. At first she had thought the voice was a part of her dream but, judging from the noise already coming from the hallway, it had been a real announcement. There were blinds drawn over the window, allowing no outdoor light to seep through into the room, the entire room dark except for the red blinking light of the smoke detector on the wall across from Laura's bunk. She couldn't see in the dark, but didn't know from where she was laying in a heap, tangled in her purple blanket, where the light switch was.

Afraid to get up for fear of stepping on something, Laura hissed into the dark.

"Jon? Jon, are you awake?"

There was no answer. Laura sat up slowly, remembering in the nick of time that there wasn't very much space between her head and where Jon's bunk was. Looking up to the bunk across from hers, she could tell that Chris was still sleeping, the big blob of blankets rising and falling with each breath. There was no one in the bed beneath Chris but it was obvious someone had been there during the course of the night because there was an open suitcase on the bed, the clothes ruffled through and laying haphazardly over the covers.

"Jon?"

Laura hit her hand on the bottom of the bunk and heard a snort from above. At least he was alive. Untangling herself from her blanket, Laura got up, her legs stiff because she had slept in her jeans. Stepping up onto the little ladder to peer over the railing at Jon, Laura snorted in laughter as she saw Jon drooling, curled up with his sports themed blanket, face smeared on his pillow. Nudging his shoulder, Laura woke him up.

"Hey, girl," Jon said, "Whad ya want? Do you know what time it is?"

"There was an announcement. We have to get up and go to the cafeteria."

"Breakfast?" Jon asked, looking significantly more awake with the thought of food.

"I don't know, but we have to get up."

Getting off the bunk ladder, Laura pulled up the shades, the morning sun letting in enough light that she could see the light switch was near the door. Yawning, Laura turned on the lights and heard Chris groan and pull the covers over his head. She dug through her suitcase for clothes, deciding on a clean pair of jeans and a baggy tee shirt. After getting dressed in the bathroom, making sure the door was locked twice, Laura found Chris still asleep. At least Jon was moving, just finishing changing as Laura walked in.

"We're going to have to be careful how we work the morning routine," Jon joked as he pulled on his shirt, Laura looking away and tossing her old clothes onto her bed.

"I don't know why I didn't get my own room," Laura said, sighing. "Do you know where the cafeteria is? I think we're going to be late."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Jon answered with a grin. "Once lazybones over there gets up, we'll search for it."

* * *

After Chris finally got up and dressed, the three trumpet players followed the crowd of fellow corps members through the hallways. Those who had gone to camp before and had stayed at this same university knew where they were going and Laura eventually found herself in a large, comfortable dining area where breakfast was being served.

"Did you ever stay up late enough to find out who our fourth roommate was?" Laura asked as she fell into line behind Jon, grabbing a cereal bowl. "I didn't wake up to hear him come in."

"You were pretty dead last night," Chris said, standing behind Laura. "I was up, but Jon fell asleep shortly after you did."

"So, who's the-"

Laura was cut off as Mr. Hamon's voice boomed across the cafeteria.

"All of you getting food, hurry it up and find a chair. We need to have a corps meeting."

Repressing a cringe, Laura did what their marching director said and found a chair by her section, Chris and Jon sitting on either side of her. Mr. Hamon stood on a chair in front of the room. Sitting a few tables away were the instructors plus a few people Laura had never seen before. One of them could have been Mr. Hamon's brother, the resemblance was so close. This man was sitting by Paul, the colorguard instructor, who seemed to be trying to carry on a conversation with the reluctant talker. He wasn't wearing sandals, like Hamon always was, but had sunglasses tucked into the collar of his shirt. He was slightly older than Mr. Hamon, however, and his eyes were darker. Rather tall and lanky, this man had slightly inverted shoulders, as if the joints were trying to touch one another, but as he sat up, waiting for Hamon's announcement, Laura could tell he was strong and wasn't a person to cross.

Another man, sitting next to Mr. Deleyney, had course blond hair, almost as if it had been dyed too many colors at one time. He seemed to be the youngest of the group of instructors, but was still older than the average corps member. Like Hamon and the man sitting across from him, he had a crisp bearing, his movements fluid. He was always moving, Laura noticed, his fingers tapping on the rim of his cereal bowl, his feet bouncing on the ground. He was fidgeting, which made Laura want to fidget and her fingers strayed over to her spoon, tapping her fingernails on the metal softly. He had green eyes, so bright Laura could tell they were green from across the room, and he was dressed as if it was going to be a hundred degrees outside, a light shirt, shorts, a hat, and a pair of marching shoes all he was wearing.

"Listen up," Mr. Hamon yelled, cutting through the noise. "Stop chewing for a few minutes and I'll introduce you to your instructors. You already know Mr. Deleyney, Paul, and myself. Like usual, if you have any concerns with the music, talk with Mr. Deleyney. If you have any concerns with the schedule, talk to me, and no one besides the guard should have any concerns to be taken up with Paul. Got it?"

There was a general agreement and Mr. Hamon continued on.

"This is Beau Leroux," Mr. Hamon said, gesturing to the man who looked like him. "He is the percussion instructor. He's going to be working with the battery and pit during camp. When he says jump, you ask how high, got it? Even if you're not a percussionist, listen to him. Beau has a lot of experience with corps and he's worked with The Knights as long as I have."

Beau waved his hand and scanned the tables. Laura felt his eyes scan over her table, pretty sure he had noticed her. She hadn't pinned up her hair and she wasn't wearing a sports bra, so she must have been an odd looking guy in his eyes.

"This right here is Adam," Mr. Hamon announced, the man with the sandy, odd looking hair waving. "He's a movement instructor and he's going to be helping me whip you all into shape. When he's not working with corps, he's a fitness coach, so don't try and pull anything on him because he'll know when you're lying about being hurt."

A few people muttered a hello before trying to stuff some breakfast in before Mr. Hamon started talking again. Mark started making conversation with Jake, who was sitting at the instructor's table. Jake was looking even more excited than he did yesterday, Laura thought, and his excitement this early in the morning made Laura's stomach queasy. Next to Jake was Thomas, who was sitting as still as a statue with about as much color in his face as one, pale and quiet like usual. He was wearing a thin shirt, too, and was dressed much like the other instructors at the table: ready for a long day of work. Laura tried not to look at him too long, just in case he would see her staring at him. Why was she upset with him again? Laura couldn't even remember the specifics. Something about him treating her too well. Feeling cruddy all of a sudden, Laura put down her spoon and balanced her chin on her hand, her elbow on the table.

"So, I'll let these guys say a few words later during practice," the marching instructor said, "and I'll turn this over to the executive director."

After some scattered applause and some laughter as Mr. Deleyney stood up on his chair just the marching instructor jumped off his chair and sat down, nearly knocking over Adam's breakfast. Mr. Hamon glowered and Adam, trying to get a few more laughs, hugged his cereal close.

"Veteran members will remember this pretty well, but for all you new Knights out there, this is how our typical day will go," Mr. Deleyney announced, trying to keep his balance and read off his clip board at the same time. "You'll wake up at six thirty, get ready and eat until eight, and then practice until noon in sectionals. After an hour of lunch, practice on the field, and dinner at five, we'll march until ten at night. You have an hour to do as you please after the last practice of the day and then lights out."

Laura found out her jaw was hanging and she quickly shut her mouth. She knew camp was going to be tough, but it sounded even more intimidating now than it did a few minutes ago. She could see Jon raise an eyebrow and hoped he wasn't as worried as she was. Angry at herself for being a wimp, Laura sat up straight and took her elbow off the table. She was going to be working just as hard as everyone else.

"You'll all be assigned a crew, too. You'll keep these jobs through the tour, too. I'll have a list posted on the bulletin board outside the housing area where your dorm numbers are posted."

Mr. Deleyney sat down, having an easier time of it than Mr. Hamon did, and the corps waited for Paul to stand up and make an announcement. Paul continued eating breakfast and, shrugging, everyone went back to their morning meal.

"How many times do you wanna bet Mr. Hamon says 'Got it?' before the end of the day?" Chris asked, making Laura snort in laughter. Jon started naming all the colors of the marshmallows in his cereal and the three trumpet players had a very nice conversation until Mr. Hamon, not risking standing on his chair again, stood and yelled over the din of scattered conversation that practice was to start in ten minutes and that all section leaders were to meet at the director's table.

"See you in a bit, Laura," Jon said, getting up and taking his cereal bowl with him. Laura nodded goodbye and hoped she wasn't supposed to be pretending to be a boy at the moment because the instructor Mr. Hamon had introduced first, Beau, was still looking at her. Laura noticed Chris was smirking and, after trying to ignore it, including getting up and putting her bowl away, Laura became too curious.

"What are you being so weird about?" Laura asked Chris, half joking.

"So, I thought you and the drum major had a thing," Chris answered, pushing his chair in, "I didn't know you were actually going steady with Jon."

"I'm not!" Laura exclaimed a little too loudly. "Jon isn't my boyfriend!"

A few people glanced over at her, startled. This was still an all male corps and, although there was nothing wrong with expressing one's feelings, having such an announcement spoken so loudly at breakfast was surprising. When they realized it was Laura, however, a few people snickered, causing Laura to blush.

"I'm not even involved with Thomas."

"Were you?"

"I think so, at one point."

"What do you mean you think so? You didn't even know?"

Laura shook her head as she joined the group of trumpet players that had gathered by the doorway, moving to let a group of percussionists slip by her. She had the opportunity to be more than friends with Thomas, sure, but she had always pushed him away, just like the other night.

"I won't make you talk about it anymore," Chris said, shrugging and clapping Laura on the back. "Not great talk for a group setting, anyway."

Laura raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to say, but didn't have to reply because Jon walked over with a smile on his face.

"Trumpets!" Jon yelled, trying to get everyone's attention, "We're going to be practicing in the choir room. All our instruments and music are already there. We take a left down the hallway, another left, and then the third door on the right. Got it?"

"If he's going to be as bad as Mr. Hamon with the 'got it' thing, let's say we push him off a chair," Chris joked, Laura not finding it remotely funny.

* * *

Sectionals went as usual, Jon occasionally messing up, Chris and Mark and a few other trumpet players helping their section leader along. Laura found herself getting very involved with the music. She had fallen in love with the show from the first time she heard it, but was beginning to like it more and more as time went on. She decided that the last part of the show was her favorite, when the Knight saves the princess from the dragon. The end was a minute and a half long fanfare, an explosion of sound, and by the end of sectionals Laura's ears ached.

After getting lunch, Laura scanned the crowd for Chris or Jon, unable to find them in the crowd of people. She felt stupid, standing there with her plate in front of the tables, the occasional eater glancing up at her over their tray of food.

"Laura, I would like you to come eat with us today," said Mr. Deleyney, coming up behind Laura and muttering in her ear. Laura jumped, nearly spilling her water, and nodded, following the musical instructor. She had no time to ask why because Mr. Deleyney had hurried her, Laura having to roll step carefully to prevent from knocking anything else over and ruining her lunch. She smiled nervously at the directors and tried to ignore Thomas' usual icy stare as Mr. Deleyney pulled out her chair for her. Laura sat down, relieved to be sitting close to Jake.

"Laura, I would like you to meet Beau and Adam," Mr. Deleyney said, sitting across from Laura.

"Hello," she said, trying to keep her voice under control. Why did she always have to get so nervous? "Pleased to meet you."

"You're the one we've heard so much about," Beau said, his voice surprisingly smooth. "I'm pleased to meet you, too. I've heard the story of how one of my best percussionists picked a fight with the wrong person."

Laura, concerned, looked to Mr. Deleyney for help. Beau, catching this glance, smiled and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.

"I didn't mean anything by that, Ms. Harring," Beau said apologetically. "Matt always did cause trouble and I no doubt believe he received what he gave. Andrew isn't giving you a hard time?"

"No, sir, thank you," Laura said, trying to pierce a lettuce leaf with her salad fork. It was true. Andrew hadn't given her as much trouble as usual the past few months and she hoped it would stay that way.

Beau nodded and went back to eating. He was very elegant, the polite version of their marching instructor. Laura still didn't like the way he looked at her though, as if he could see right through her facade and right into the heart of all her worries and fears.

"Hi," Adam said lamely, taking the salt shaker Paul had passed to him. "I'm the movement instructor, like Mr. Hamon said earlier. I hope you like me now because you're not going to like me later."

"Why is that? I'm sure I'll like you just fine," Laura answered, amused.

"Because he works the hell out of newbies," Mr. Hamon said pointedly.

"I work the hell out of everyone," Adam answered, laughing. "So, Laura, I hope we can get along for now. You've marched before, right?"

"Of course. I was a drum major in my high school band."

"Nice. I'll make sure to pay attention to some of those snappy drum major movements you're going to show me this afternoon on the field, okay?"

Laura wasn't sure if Adam was being degrading or funny but was amazed that, the entire time they had been talking, he was shaking salt over his mashed potatoes. Paul, Jake, and Mr. Deleyney had noticed the excessive shaking and Adam, realizing they were looking at him in an odd way, laughed.

"When I march, I sweat. Salt is a great thing to stock up on!"

"That's not healthy," Mr. Deleyney said, Paul rolling his eyes and smiling wide.

Laura continued her conversations with the directors, trying to make light conversation with Mr. Deleyney and Jake. But, by the time lunch was over and people were getting ready to go to drill rehearsal, Laura had hardly eaten a bite.

* * *

_Thank you very much for reading! If you couldn't tell, I'm going to be taking this chapter "section" in several different parts. I have the next chapter written out (this was actually longer, but too long for one chapter, so I cut it in half) and that will be posted soon. Thank you very much for reading and please leave me a review/comment or a concern (or a lead on a corps member/ex-member that would be willing to partake in accuracy detailing for "Hearts Of Glass.") Thank you to all of you who have also checked out the LiveJournal community and Facebook community for Hearts (both links available on my profile). Thank you!!!!!!!_


	50. First Day At Camp

_Hello! Lately, life has been just crazy and I'm happy to say Chapter 50 is finally here! Wow... It's been a lot, huh? I can assure you that the edit isn't going to be 50 chapters (which I've already started on, by the way), but I'm happy I can get to this milestone. I'm still not sure how many pages I have total... I save each chapter as a seperate draft, but I'm going to find out one day. Any bets? Ha!_

_I'm still looking for an interested corps member to help with accuracy and basically what their view was on camps, ect... so my edit is more accurate to what an actual corps is and how they work. There is only so much you get out of a magazine; sometimes you need to talk with an actual person to understand. I wish I had firsthand experience, but I don't! If you know anyone interested, please let me know! Thank you!_

_You may have read SingerOfSong's recent fanfic off Hearts Of Glass. I have this to say: she's an amazing writer and I thank her for taking the time and effort to create something so great and entertaining. It was really odd for me to see a fanfic off Hearts already, but I'm flattered and she has my full permission to do so. A few of you were worried that I had given up on Hearts and was going to pass it off to her. I'm here to say it's not true: Hearts is my project and I'm not done until it's published in book form! I'm always going to be there, don't worry, working on my novels!_

_The exercises and practice methods in this chapter were actual things I was taught at drumline camp and I want to thank my own movement clinic leader for teaching these to me. I don't know if I have permission to use them or not (how could an exercise be someones?) but I want to say right now that I didn't think them up. (disclaimer) I use them, though, and I encourage you to try them! _

_Onward!_

**

* * *

First Day At Camp**

Laura could feel the plush grass under her marching shoes as she walked out onto the practice field, Jon at her side. The white lines on the bright green blades stood out crisp and clear in the mid afternoon sun, freshly painted and ready to be trampled on. The burnished steel poles holding the stadium lights above the edges of the field gleamed and the reflection hurt Laura's eyes if she wasn't careful where she looked. To avoid being blinded, she kept her eyes on her feet, watching the tips of her black shoes appear and disappear as she walked quietly beside her friend.

"What's the problem, Laura?" Jon asked, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pants, trying to act nonchalant. "Did lunch with the directors go okay?"

"Yeah, it was fine," Laura answered, trying to snap out of her sudden stupor. All she wanted to do was go and sleep and they hadn't even started the first actual drill practice. Laura had heard that, even though The Knights had worked on the drill already, getting on the field before camp, this was going to be unlike anything Mr. Hamon had made them do.

"Did you talk about anything in particular? Why did you have to eat lunch with them? I saw Mr. Deleyney sort of steer you toward the table and you looked really nervous."

"No, we didn't. I just got to meet the instructors for a second time, basically. Beau, the percussion instructor, seems strange, but polite. He's like the quiet version of Mr. Hamon."

At this, Jon smiled, took his hands out of his pockets, and cracked his knuckles, making Laura cringe. They joined the group of marchers, gathering in front of the the drum major podiums that had been placed in front of the field. Jake and Thomas were standing at the foot of the center podium, talking in hushed voices again, working on conducting patterns. Laura wondered how much time they actually spent on conducting and other drum major things. When she was in command of her high school marching band, Laura hoped she didn't look as stressed as Thomas looked. If possible, the circles under his eyes had grown darker in the past few hours and his hand movements were quick and sharp, as if he were angry instead of practicing. Taking her eyes off Thomas, she stood closer to Jon, shuffling from foot to foot.

Around her, other people were talking, laughing, having fun. For some reason, Laura felt nervous and on edge. Ever since her lunch with the directors, the added stress of having the drum major she loved and disliked at the same time sitting at the same table, Laura wanted to hide somewhere and not participate. She knew she had a bad attitude and that, if she didn't cooperate, Mr. Hamon would have a thing or two to say about it.

A glint of sunlight caught Laura's eye, movement in the corner of the field. The directors were approaching the group of corps members, the reflection of light Laura noticed coming off of Mr. Hamon's clipboard. Beside him was Beau and Mark, Mr. Deleyney and Paul following behind at a leisurely pace. Adam's hair looked even more unique than when Laura had seen it under the lights of the dinning hall and she couldn't help but admire the way he walked. He roll stepped like that was the only way he had been taught to walk and his back was so straight Laura found herself fixing her own posture.

The chatter died down as the directors grew closer and, with a nod from Mr. Hamon, the movement instructor ran up, dashed between Jake and Thomas, and took his place on Jake's podium, looking around before waving his arms.

"If I could get your attention, please, we'll begin! I'm Adam Chipet, your movement instructor, and today I'm going to teach you some basic moves to warm up with before every show and to use while you march. Gather in a semi-circle around the podium so I can all see you and we'll begin."

Laura found a spot in the semi-circle, Jon nudging her accidentally as everyone shifted so they had enough room to put their arms out and not hit anyone. Adam smiled and Laura took a deep breath. So far, it had been less painful than she thought the clinic was going to be. Was it Adam or Beau who worked the hell out of newbies?

"I'm going to teach you an exercise I want you to do when you wake up, when you come to practice, and before you go to bed. It's marching band yoga, in terms," Adam said, speaking loudly as to address the entire corps without using a microphone or megaphone, both of which Mr. Deleyney had sticking out of his bag along with a binder of music.

"Instructors, you can get in on this. I know we're missing Trygve and a few of the others, but we'll get them up to speed later. Come on, Peter, get over here. You took, Deleyney!"

Adam laughed as the instructors put their bags on the ground, Mr. Deleyney placing his gently in the corner of the field while Mr. Hamon dropped his where he stood. Beau and Paul exchanged looks and Laura smiled as they spread their arms out to make enough space for the exercises.

"Now, I'm going to lead you in a bit of a warm up," Adam said, slinging his arm over his opposite shoulder. "Follow me."

As Laura stretched, she felt her muscles pull and protest. She was already stiff and sore; she had gotten out of shape since last fall. After the incident with Thomas and the push ups, she had worked out and gotten her body up to speed on what it needed to do, but Laura had since let herself go. She hadn't gained any weight, only lost muscle, but she was kicking herself at that moment; she should have realized she would have to work harder than she ever had to work before at spring camp.

"Great! Good job, everyone. We're moving on," Adam said, brushing hair out of his face. "Stand at your best attention."

Laura did so and clenched her fists. Thumb over the top of the fist, just like when she had been in marching band. Or was it thumb inside the fist? Thinking too hard, Laura just wiggled her fingers and did her best to stay still. Adam nodded as the entire group stiffened into attention.

"You have four planes of movement on your body. From your feet to knees, knees to hips, hips to shoulders, shoulders to head. This exercise works with all these areas of your body and makes sure you're relaxed and ready to move. The first movement you will do is bring your chin to your chest. In a steady, four count movement, okay? Here we go. Five, six, seven, eight..."

Laura brought her chin to her chest and thought very vainly that she must have a double chin effect going on. Great. Well, camp wasn't about being attractive. It was about work. And right now, if all the work she had to do was bring her chin to her chest, well, so be it!

"Now, roll your shoulders while crossing your arms in front of you. At the end of four counts, your arms will be crossed left over right and your hands will be in fists. Chin is still touching your chest, got it? Here we go. Five, six, seven, eight..."

As Laura rolled her shoulders and crossed her arms, she felt her back muscles pull, but it was a comfortable sort of pull, like she had never known those muscles were there and had needed attention before.

"Next, you'll bend at the waist, keeping your chin down and arms crossed."

She felt stupid bending at the waist, especially since she didn't know who was behind her, but everyone's chin was supposed to be tucked in, so the situation wasn't so awkward as she had initially thought. Laura was embarrassed, too, that she couldn't touch her toes, some of the boys next to her bending all the way over to playfully scratch at the grass and rip up a few of the bright green blades.

"Still tucked in, squat down so your arms are between your knees in four easy counts. Don't balance yourself by putting your hands on the ground. Imagine yourself folded up in a box, waiting to be opened."

Even Adam snorted at this as a few of the guys groaned as their marching instructor became faux poetic. Laura did as he said and, as she went down, several things popped in her back. Many other people had joint snaps and cracks as they all followed their movement instructor's directions. Laura felt like she was about to topple over and a few other boys were swaying. Laura could see them out of the corner of her eye, bending back and forth, trying to keep their balance.

"We're going to go in reverse now. For each movement we did, we're going to take four counts to unfold and we should end up back at attention. Here we go. Five, six, seven, eight..."

As Laura straighted up, pulled her arms back, and lifted her chin, a calming effect came over her. That had felt great! She wanted to do it again! Looking over, she smiled at Jon, who was rolling a shoulder to get the muscle cramp he was experiencing to go away faster. So calming! She felt loose and limber and ready to go march!

"Wasn't that great?" Adam asked. Laura could hear Mr. Hamon snort and saw Mr. Deleyney straighten out his back, saying something about being too old for this sort of thing. Paul, who was around the same age as Tyler, chuckled and slapped him on the back, earning a look of sarcastic appreciation from the music instructor. Laura cheered, though, with the other members of the corps who had enjoyed the exercise and, to her delight, Adam began explaining the different ways to use that exercise and the numerous variations. Marching yoga. Laura laughed in her head. She loved it!

"We're going to try another exercise," Adam announced, killing the chatter that had arose among the corps members standing around Jake's podium. How Adam could do the exercises along with them while balancing on a podium was beyond her.

"Stand at attention and, slowly, in four counts, lift your right leg so it's up against your left with your right foot against your left knee. Your toes on your right foot should be pointing down. Here we go, in four counts. Five, six, seven, eight..."

Laura followed the instruction and felt herself sway to the left. A few boys couldn't do it, constantly having to start over. Adam yelled for them to look a few feet in front of where they were standing and to concentrate on that spot to help them balance. It seemed to work because there was a lot less flailing going on. In four counts, Adam brought them back out of it.

"Did you realize that you all swayed to the left when you did that? This time, stay straight. Don't move to your left. Move as little as possible; you're just picking your foot up and putting it down without moving in any direction. Here we go again."

This time, Laura found it much harder to balance because she was indeed leaning to the left again. It was a massive, corps wide sway and Adam shook his head. They went through the exercise again until Adam was pleased enough to continue on.

"Now, that's all the warm ups I'm going to teach you today. Tomorrow, we'll go over the old ones and start a new one and hopefully we'll have a new one every other day after that. Got it? I'm going to turn you over to Mr. Hamon now and you'll start with the drill. Thanks for being a wonderful group!"

Laura clapped and wondered how many other corps the man had worked with; he seemed very comfortable with speaking to such a large group and had the air of a person who had done stuff like this a hundred times before. Mr. Hamon, picking his bag back up, walked to Jake's podium and nodded his head at Adam as the movement instructor let him go by. Jake, who looked like he wanted his podium back that instant, was waved over and Thomas followed.

"Adam is going to be walking around and helping us with the drill as we go through it. Luckily, since we had longer practices and more time than other corps to work on our show, we already are far ahead our schedule. But that doesn't mean we're going to work any less than we have in the past. All of you are going to give a hundred and fifty percent. Any less than that and I'm holding back your meals."

There was a general mutter of shock and the tension tripled. He couldn't do that!

"Relax! I'm joking!" Mr. Hamon raised an eyebrow and there were a few nervous laughs. "You don't have a sense of humor."

"I think it's the opposite," Jon whispered in Laura's ear. "He doesn't have the sense of humor. He's dangerous enough that we wouldn't put it past him to do such a thing!"

"Now, we're going to get our drum majors up here and they're going to start you off. Since a few of our specialist instructors are gone, we're going to work with getting on and off the field as well as watching your majors for commands. Here we go, corps!"

Laura gulped as she was herded back into her section and was given orders on where and how to stand. The marching yoga wasn't going to last her through the practice, Laura bet, and she tried to remember how she felt at that moment, not so stiff and sore as before. She was going to miss that feeling.

* * *

After dinner, which Laura ate with Chris and Jon much to her relief, the three trumpet players went back to their room. The percussionists had pretty much taken over the lounge television and the corps members who had never been to camp before didn't quite know what to do besides go back to their rooms and hang out until lights went out. Laura convinced the boys that this was the time to get their rooms set up for the next few weeks and, after Chris dragged out a portable stereo for personal music players to attach to, they hooked up some music and everyone unpacked their bags.

"So, what did you think of the movement exercises Adam taught us?" Jon asked, standing on his bunk ladder to tuck in a corner of a sheet.

"I thought they were great!" Chris said, playing air guitar as a rock song came on the stereo. Laura laughed as she realized Jon was actually making his bed and that Chris had almost hit his head on the ceiling as he jumped off his bunk and danced like a rock star, still playing air guitar. Laura, happy with her now freshly made bed and unpacked clothes, lined her bottles of perfume, deodorant, and other rather girlish things on the shelf that doubled as a bunk headboard. Jon looked curiously at the bottles and went and sat on Laura's bed, smiling.

"Hey, I just made that!" she exclaimed, standing up after sliding her suitcase and duffel bag under the bed.

"I know. That's the fun part."

Laura sat down beside Jon and straightened one of the bottles so it's label faced forward. Jon looked at her with amazement.

"Do girls really think that's so important? That everything is perfect?"

"Naw, I'm just bored. Some girls do, but..." Laura trailed off and shrugged as Jon picked a few of the bottles up.

"Coconut milk? Mango and cucumber? Fresh breeze? What does a fresh breeze smell like?"

"Try some!"

"No, thanks. Oh, I like the sound of strawberries, though!" he said, uncapping a small spray bottle. "With cream, too! Sweet!"

Jon playfully sprayed some on both of them and Laura snatched the bottle away, laughing. Chris shook his head and joined in on the laugher as the entire room started to smell like a scented soap shop.

Suddenly, the dorm door opened and someone walked in. Laura, still laughing cheerfully, looked over and she felt her heart jump into her throat at the same time her stomach fell down to her feet. Chris turned down the stereo and Jon stood up and backed away from Laura in one swift movement, as if they had been doing something they shouldn't have been doing in the first place. Laura had wondered when their fourth roommate was going to come join them. His clothes were still all over his unmade bed and the suitcase was half open, displaying it's contents.

Thomas shut the door and walked to his bunk, moving clothes around in the sort of way one does when they don't exactly want to fold them but they still want the clothes put away. Finally, someone found something to say after what seemed like minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"Um, Thomas, do you want the top bunk?" Chris asked, meek. Laura would have laughed if the situation was at all funny but found it best to sit cross legged on her bed and put the bottles of perfume back into their proper spot on the headboard shelf. Jon crept back over to Laura and stood with a foot and a hand on the bunk ladder.

Thomas shook his head and started to fold clothes, very carefully, as if it was the only job in the world he had to do. Laura watched out of the corner of her eye as Thomas folded all his shirts. A sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of shorts, another shirt. Many items had The Knights insignia on it, a man in armor against a large, scripted K, some shirts specifically for corps members from shows years back, others the sort of shirts any member or fan could buy at a performance. Laura found herself admiring a pair of emerald green long legged shorts Thomas was currently folding and she blushed and looked away as Thomas looked up at her.

"So, did you like Adam?" Chris asked, trying to make conversation.

"I've met him before."

Chris climbed up on top of his bunk, above Thomas, and signaled to Jon and Laura that he wasn't going to talk with Thomas any more through a serious of hand gestures and movements Laura found hilarious. Once again, though, she didn't laugh, only continued arranging things on the shelf, making sure all the folds in her clothes were made properly.

"How did you get placed with us?" Jon asked, taking Laura by surprise. Jon's tone was accusing even though the question was innocent enough. Laura hoped Jon wouldn't make a scene; it had been a while since they had had a fight and Laura wanted to keep it that way.

"Long story. In the end, we had too many people and not enough rooms. Jake might be coming here or I might leave if we find another available room."

"If Jake comes here, where would he sleep?" Chris asked, his curiosity taking the better of him. "On the floor?"

"Yes," Thomas said, as if it were the easiest answer in the world. "Other corps members are sleeping five to a room, also. Only instructors have rooms to themselves."

"Oh," Jon said, not satisfied. Laura knew as well as the others that Thomas' answer didn't really make sense because the sort of college they were staying at for camp held more than a hundred and fifty students per residency hall. It was tough to believe that other members were sleeping five to a room. But, Thomas was a drum major, even off the field, and he wouldn't lie. Would he?

Jon climbed up on top of his bunk and took a look at the portable clock he had brought with and set up.

"It's almost time for lights out."

Chis snickered at this rather lame statement and Laura even broke a smile, but Thomas was as serious as ever, picking up the pace of his folding. Within minutes, his suitcase was under the bed like Laura's and Thomas stood up.

"I need to talk with a few of the instructors, then. I should be back before lights out but if I'm not, don't go looking for me."

Thomas walked out the door without so much as a parting glance and, as soon as he was gone and the door was shut behind him, Chris broke into hysterics.

"Yeah, we'll really go looking for you!" Chris said, nearly pounding his pillow. "That guy is so full of himself!"

Jon waved his hand over the edge of his bunk and Laura pulled at his fingers, trying to catch one. She had a feeling this was a new game they were going to play.

"Laura, do you really think he's here because there's no place else for him to sleep?"

"No," she answered, trying to find something else to say. "As a drum major, I would think he would have the pick of rooms. Just my thoughts."

"Wanna know what I think?" Jon asked, pulling his hand up and leaning over the side so he could look upside down at Laura. "I think he chose this room because you were in it. And because I'm in it. He wants to keep you from me, just like at camp. He can't stand it that we're friends."

"He's threatened," Chris said, joining in on the conversation, even though it was assumed he didn't know what he was talking about. "Thomas lurves Laura and he hates the fact Johnny boy is here with you!"

"First of all," Jon said, half joking, half serious, "Never say 'lurves' again. Second of all, my name is Jon. Third of all, I think you're right."

"What gets me is why I don't have my own room," Laura said, frowning. "Don't get me wrong, I love being here with you guys, but I'm the only girl with about a hundred other guys who won't be seeing another female nearly all summer. Wouldn't I be under a lot of protection right now? I'm a liability and they're putting me in with three other guys."

"Maybe Deleyney trusts us," Jon said, his face getting red as all the blood rushed to his head from being upside down for so long. "I mean, it's not a secret I'm way overprotective of you and Thomas is too much of a gentleman to do anything to you. Chris, well, I'm sure they found the nicest possible guy to put in here with us. If Thomas is right and there isn't enough rooms to go around, this could have been the only possible solution besides you sleeping with one of the directors."

Chris snorted and Laura shot him a look. Jon shrugged and said, "You know what I mean, right?"

Laura nodded. Thomas could be telling the truth. It was obvious Laura was protected by Jon and Thomas and Chris seemed to be a nice guy with nothing against Laura. If Jake also roomed with them, it would add to her safety, too.

"Hey, you guys want to see my girlfriend?"

Chris brought out a picture and handed it around. He winked at Laura as if he had read her mind.

"Sorry, Laura, you'll have to keep your hands off me. I'm already taken."

Yes, she was going to be safe with them.

* * *

_Thanks, everyone for reading! Right now, I'm at home because my big drumline/corps weekend was cancelled due to a wicked snowstorm. My director called me this morning: "Good morning! We're not going!" Darn... I was all packed and set to go; we were going to about three contests and sleeping overnight on a gym floor. It was going to be fun. Boohoo. Oh, well... Once again, Hearts Of Glass is on Facebook and LiveJournal, so take a look. I'm usually on my Facebook once a day, too, so I'll always have Hearts updates there... A few of you have already found me and I thank you for being so nice and friendly!_

_Please leave a review and thanks so much, once again! I love it that you love this, because it makes me love it even more (if that makes sense!) Happy Reading!_


	51. Puppets Without Strings

_Hey, everyone! I know what you're probably thinking: "OMG! She updated! ABOUT TIME, goldnote!!!" Sorry! My most humble apologies for not only the lack of chapters but the lack of response to all the beautiful reviews, PM's, and emails. Gah! Let's just say I've had a major activity going on every day of my life since two weeks ago (our band contest, in which we placed very well, and so many drumline competitions I can't count, in which we didn't do as well... hehe...) and today I happened to finish this chapter because I stayed home from school, sick. I'm better than before, nothing more than a spring cold, but it actually gave me a chance to sleep and type, although I did miss an awesome lunch and drumline practice tonight. Oh, well; Hearts is much better! And I'm so surprised Hearts actually dropped off the front page of the section! GAH! I think that's only happened once before. Gah again..._

_If I haven't said this before, I'm lucky enough to have gotten ahold of some corps members and corps information to extend the edit on this story and so I'm recalling the request for any interested drum corps members to speak up if they want to say a few things about the edit (although if you still want to help, I'll accept it! ) and I'm so pleased to see more people joining the Facebook and LiveJournal communities. Thanks to all of you who kept me on my toes about this story the past few weeks, too, especially the few who sent PM's asking me to update literally a thousand times. It made me laugh and always keep Hearts in the back of my head. (As if it already isn't there in the back of my head all the time!)_

_Thanks for the patience (I could swear there was going to be more to say in this author's note, but, as I said, I'm not still 100 healthy, so my mind is a bit frizzled. HA! Like usual, thanks so much for all the comments so far and keep them coming; I swear I'll return to my old self and answer everyone back! It's the least I could do for those who've reviewed and left me messages!_

_Onward!!!_

**

* * *

**

**Puppets Without Strings**

Her muscles ached, all her bones felt like they were snapped in half, and every heart beat resounded in her head like a sledgehammer. Laura groaned as someone, probably Thomas, opened the blinds, letting every bit of sunlight stream into the room, which did nothing for her headache. Finding the strength somehow to turn over and take the covers with her, Laura remembered as soon as she hit the floor that she had turned the wrong way. The carpet smelled so bad that Laura's eyes watered, but that could also have been from the fact that, as she fell off her bed, her muscles clenched in surprise, causing them to ache even more.

"Are you alright?" she heard a voice say in her ear, a cool hand resting on her bare shoulder. Laura tried to clean the dry, cotton like feeling out of her mouth with a little extra spit but succeeded in drooling onto the smelly carpet instead. Shutting her mouth and wiping her chin, Laura looked up-- and right into Thomas' blue eyes. Feeling herself blush, Laura silently commanded her body to obey her as she tried to get up, realizing that holding onto the blanket, which was now tangled around her body, only slowed her down. Feeling rather exposed in just a tank top and sleeping shorts, Laura sat on her bed and tried to avoid Thomas.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks," she muttered, turning away from the drum major, who was now dressed in a light grey shirt with those shorts she had been admiring as he had folded clothes, plain sneakers on his feet and sunglasses tucked back on his head. For this early in the morning, he looked pretty snappy and Laura felt not only exposed but sloppy.

"You're due in the dinning hall in an hour," Thomas said, picking up on Laura's signals and backing away. "Please wake the other two so they're not late."

Thomas walked out the door and Laura was faced with two options. One, she could get up and get dressed or two, she could close the blinds and go back to sleep. Sleep sounded tempting and nearly everything in her body said the second option would be the best, but Laura figured arriving late to breakfast for the second day in a row wouldn't impress anyone. Getting up and rummaging through her piles of clothes, Laura found a clean tank top and a pair of shorts, her habitual summer clothing. Grabbing her sports bra and running shoes, she found the door to the bathroom her room and the room next to her shared. Being careful to knock on the door first to avoid surprising anyone, Laura entered and locked the door behind her as well as the door leading to the other room.

The bathroom was simple and not as clean as Laura had hoped. At least she didn't have to take a shower, not yet, anyway, Laura thought as she quickly got dressed and ran a brush through her hair. She pulled her now smooth hair back into a braid, pinning any loose bits of hair back with a few bobby pins and, satisfied with the way she looked, unlocked both bathroom doors and went back into her own room to wake the boys.

"Come on, guys, wake up," Laura said, making her bed while making as much noise as possible. "Time to go to practice." Chris groaned and flopped around but eventually got up with enough prodding from Laura, stumbling off to the bathroom. Jon still seemed fast asleep and Laura even walked up the ladder to the top of the bunk and shook him, only getting a snort in response.

"Come on, Jon," she prodded, getting off the ladder and fluffing up the pillows on her bed so they would look extra inviting when she came back from practice. Practice. She hoped they would learn a new exercise today; she liked Adam and his quirkiness. Beau, though, gave her the creeps. He just seemed like such a silent, worrisome person, the sort of guy to think everything over down to the last detail. Plus, he was so much like Mr. Hamon that it scared more than half the corps members. When would Trygve and the other instructors arrive? Mr. Deleyney had been discussing that just the other day and Mr. Hamon seemed to have a friendship with Trygve. Well, she hoped Trygve wouldn't bark at her for what she was wearing, just like Mr. Hamon had done the previous day at dinner. He hadn't yelled at her, really, only mentioned that wearing jeans to practice wasn't a great idea and laughed at her choice of clothing. Well, Laura thought, if I'm going to be a corps member, I've gotta look like the rest of them, too.

And all the boys she knew didn't wear purple tank tops with sparkles to practice.

Laura realized her mistake at once and groaned as she climbed back on her bed, messing up the freshly fluffed pillows and smooth blankets as little as possible as she dug through the clothes and found a plain short sleeved shirt without any sparkles on it. Feeling like smacking her head against a wall, Laura stood up and took off her tank top.

"Well, good morning," Jon muttered, scaring Laura half to death. Whipping around in surprise and anger, she quickly pulled the shirt over her head, messing up her braid and catching the collar of the shirt on her bobby pins.

"Jon!" Laura snapped, "You're not supposed to- to..."

"Shouldn't you change in the bathroom?" Jon asked with a half smile, trying to sit up, Laura's face flaming red.

"Chris is in the bathroom! And you were supposed to be asleep!"

"No, I was supposed to be awake. About ten minutes ago I was supposed to be awake, actually."

"You weren't?"

Jon laughed. "No, after you woke me up, I pretended to be asleep so you would think I was actually asleep and let me have a few more minutes of rest. But, that plan was sort of destroyed when I happened to open my eyes and see you taking off your shirt."

"You're an idiot," Laura said, throwing the discarded tank top at him and walking out the door. Jon sighed and continued laughing, muttering something about Thomas and what he would have said if he had been in the room, too. Getting out of bed, Jon tossed the tank top on Laura's bed, feeling a bit guilty his plan for more sleep had ended up embarrassing Laura. Taking a look at the clock, though, Jon's eyes widened.

"Yo, Chris! Get outta the bathroom! We're gonna be late for breakfast!"

* * *

"Look, Laura, I'm really sorry, really!" 

"I know you are, but-"

"You know I'm not the sort of guy to want to, well, you know--"

"No, Jon, I don't know. Explain what sort of guy you are! Should I ask Hamon for another room or what?"

"No! I just-- You should have changed in the bathroom."

"Where Chris was?"

Jon had caught up to Laura at breakfast and was trying to talk with her while they got their food, a small breakfast of cereal, juice, and toast. Laura, still furious with him, was doing the best she could to walk away from him, Jon half jogging behind her as he followed her to a table. Nearly spilling his milk, Jon sat across from Laura and Laura sighed.

"Look, Laura! I'm sorry, okay? Besides, you had a, um, a--"

"You can say it," Laura smirked.

"A bra on and I didn't see anything. I thought it would be funny to let you know I was awake, but I wasn't planning on pretending to be asleep to watch you undress, okay? I'm not a pervert. And it's not all my fault."

Laura looked up at Jon, who had sighed right along with her and started buttering his slightly burnt slices of toast. He had a point.

"I'm sorry, too. I know it's not your fault and I could have just waited for Chris to get out of the bathroom, but I really did think you were asleep. Sorry for freaking out on you; I'm just so sore right now."

Laura held out her hand awkwardly and Jon took it, shaking it. The two smiled and laughed over how stupid their fight had been. Laura was determined not to be so short with Jon in the future. He was such a good guy to put up with her nonsense.

"Aww, you two just got over your first fight?" sneered Andrew, who had come up behind Jon and now rested his arm on the back of Jon's chair like they were old friends.

"None of your business, Andrew," Jon said, pulling his chair in, making Andrew's arm slip off the back. "Go eat your breakfast."

Laura looked down at her cereal, trying to avoid confrontation. If she could snap at her best friend for a little stupid mistake, she could attack Andrew and beat his face into the ground for so much as smirking at her. She tried to look very interested in the color the marshmallows in her cereal were transforming the milk and Jon snorted as Andrew set his tray next to him and pulled out a chair for himself, meaning to make himself at home.

"Keep walking, Andrew," Beau said, coming up behind him and pausing until Andrew, with an eye roll and heavy sigh, got back up and followed Beau away from Jon and Laura. Jon looked up at Laura and exchanged a look.

Today was going to be a long day.

* * *

The sun was shinning even brighter than the day before as Laura and Jon watched Adam, the movement instructor up atop Jake's podium, stretch out. They were supposed to be stretching, too, but Laura was trying to get by with as little as possible. This was nothing like marching band. That had been intense. This was something else entirely, something that made Laura's now non-existent marching band look like something fluffy and funny, a recess activity for elementary students, compared to The Knights Drum Corps. Her muscles cried out in protest as she tried to touch her toes and Laura, hating to admit she was going to give up on trying to get all the way down where Jake and Thomas were—both the drum majors had their hands palm down in the grass, fingers wrapped halfway around the sides of their shoes—decided grazing the top of her sneakers with her fingertips was enough. Next to her, she heard Jon groan as he leaned to the side, his groan drowned out by the sound of snapping joints as he stretched farther than he maybe should have. 

"Is everyone ready?" Adam called, Laura knowing that he would go on anyway no matter who was ready. Jake smiled and his eyes glittered in the sunlight, so excited he could barely contain himself. Thomas stood with his arms crossed, legs apart, head bowed to keep his face out of the sun. Laura found herself looking a little too long at his shadow spread on the grass. Jon nudged her and Laura blushed as she looked up at Adam, who had been trying to get her attention as well as the attention of several boys who hadn't given up the fight to touch their toes.

"Now, we're going to try a new exercise," Adam said, leading the group through a quick round of what Laura called marching yoga. "Stand at attention and, in four counts, pick up your left foot so it's resting against your right knee, toes pointed down. Here we go. Five, six, seven, eight!"

Laura saw the collective sway of the group as they lifted their right leg to the required height, trying to point their toes down. Jon nearly stumbled but regained his balance quickly, making Laura feel a little more than wobbly. After holding that position for four counts, Adam let them lower their leg in time to the clapping of his hands.

"Did anyone notice that sway? How everyone leaned to the right as they lifted their left foot?"

Laura hesitantly raised her hand, as did a few other boys, and Adam smiled.

"Good. Now, we're going to try that again. Only we're NOT going to sway to the right. We're going to imagine our right leg is a pedestal. There is a direct line going from our ankle to our knee to our hip to our shoulder, right to the top of our head, in your right foot. You wobble, you break the string."

"And we all know what happens to puppets who get their strings cut," Mr. Hamon said sarcastically, just loud enough to be heard by a few corps members. Thinking this was a hilarious joke, the marching instructor laughed and patted Mr. Deleyney on the back.

"Yeah, they become real boys," Mr. Deleyney said, rolling his eyes. He stood in back of the podium Adam was now perched on, trying to shrug Peter's hand off his shoulder.

"What's up, Tyler?" Paul said, taking his eyes away from the group of colorguard boys that had been laughing among themselves at something other than Hamon's joke. "You're extremely nervous. You've been like this since lunch. Did sectionals go okay?"

Tyler, who worked with a different section each day, had been with the percussion that morning, right after breakfast. Tyler bit his lips and, never taking his eyes off Beau, who was a few paces away, digging in his stick bag for a plastic practice tip that had come off a drumstick, answered.

"Beau doesn't seem right."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, "Beau is his usual self. Moody, self- righteous, and quiet except when he's around his section."

"I was with the percussion today and Beau just, well, he just didn't seem himself, if that makes sense," Tyler said, shaking his head and kicking at a few stray rubber pieces that had come off the tar track surrounding the field.

"It makes sense," Paul said, "Just not to me, if _that _makes any sense."

Peter looked at both of them as if they were crazy and shook his head.

"Listen, I know you don't know very much about him, but Beau's a good guy," Peter said, voice low as he took the matter seriously, "He shouldn't be worrying you. If you want, I could talk with him and see what's going on. Maybe he has some family issues right now or something. You know, something that doesn't give the corps his full attention."

"That's not exactly it," Tyler said, lowering his voice, too. "He's giving the corps all his attention, like usual, but he seems to be giving two corps members more attention than most."

"Who?" Paul asked, squeezing his way between Peter and Tyler, the marching instructor nudging him slightly.

"Andrew and Laura," Tyler answered solemnly, looking over to where Beau was kneeling, plastic tip in his hand. He had successfully retrieved it from the bottom off the bag where it had been stuck, but now was looking out across the field at the drumline, which was lined up in a row at the back of the group. The boys were laughing and joking, Andrew included, as one of the quad players tipped over during Adam's exercise. Watching Beau's vision move from Andrew to Laura, who had a resolute frown on her face while trying to keep her body perfectly straight, Tyler raised his eyebrows at the other instructors. Paul and Peter, now realizing what Tyler meant, nodded grimly.

"I'll keep an eye on Andrew, just in case there's anything there we need to know about," Paul said, "But I'm going to be almost completely occupied with the colorguard."

"I'll watch Laura, make sure the boys are treating her properly during and after practice," Tyler said, nodding his head and digging the toe of his shoes into the ground. Peter nodded back.

"I'll talk with Beau and see what's going on. Now that you mention it, there's something going on we might want to know about."

* * *

After doing the exercise with both the right and left sides of the body for nearly fifteen minutes, Laura was impressed by her own balance. She found that, if she starred about three feet in front of her, she could keep herself from falling over much easier and could now stand nearly straight while her opposite leg was lifted, foot pressed against her knee, toes down. 

"Now we're going to try this on the balls of our feet. Reveille, everyone! Up on the balls of your feet, the cushioned spot right behind the toes. Up on your right leg in four counts. Five, six, seven, eight!"

Laura groaned in embarrassment and laughter as Jon finally fell over, reaching over and giving him a hand to help him up. Jon dusted himself off and cracked his knuckles.

"I'm going to have to work a little harder on this, won't I?" he asked with a laugh, trying it again.

"That makes both of us," Laura added as she almost took a tumble again.

They weren't even to the marching part yet, a thought that made Laura cringe.

"I think that's enough for one day," Adam said, catching the marching instructor's eye. Mr. Hamon made a not so polite glance at his watch and broke out into a grin as Adam shrugged and smiled. "Your marching instructor wanted me to warm you guys up, not teach you the foundations of marching itself, huh?"

There were a few snickers at Mr. Hamon's expense, which quickly died down as Mr. Hamon placed a headset on and turned motioned up at the press box for someone to turn on the speakers. From a distance, Laura could tell the man in the press box was someone she hadn't met before. He didn't look like any of the other instructors, that was for sure, with his bald head and very broad shoulders. Could that be the other instructor Hamon had talked about. Next to the man in the press box, a woman stood, her hands folded across her chest much like how Thomas usually stood, her blond ponytail thrown over a shoulder carelessly, the hair color dark against her white t-shirt. Laura hadn't expected there to be a female instructor! Then again, they hadn't been planning on a girl in an all male corps before now, either, so anything was possible, apparently.

After whispering a few short commands in Jake's ear, Jake motioned to Thomas and Thomas went and stood on his podium, at perfect attention. Jake, still on the ground, accepted a spare headset from Mr. Deleyney, pulling it out of it's foam case and adjusting the size. There was a flick of static as Jake's headset was turned on and connected to the stadium speakers, the same as the marching instructor's microphone. Thomas snapped the command to line up and Laura found a spot in the line formed across the football field, not much unlike the practice so many months ago where she had made Thomas proud of her for the first time. She doubted "Everything we do, we do together" would be an acceptable answer to any of Mr. Hamon's questions at the moment, however. Laura heard the call to snap to attention, just like they had worked on yesterday, and she tried not to blink as she looked into the sun.

"Our first real day of practice," Mr. Hamon stated, his voice carrying over the speakers as he started his walk down the line of corps members. "Yesterday was a refresher course, playtime compared to what we're going to start today. I know you already know, or think you know, part of the shows drill and design. We've performed it for Beth Marret, our sponsor this year, but like I said before, that was nothing compared to the show we're going to perform in just a few weeks. We're taking this from the level it's at right now and bringing it to new heights."

"I know I've said many times we're not like other corps. We have different policies—" at this Laura jumped and tried to ignore the sudden switch in attitude, knowing everyone was thinking of her and the corps new, temporary 'policy' on girls in the corps "--and we have different practice methods. Most drum corps meet for fall auditions, winter and spring camps, and really only get to know one another during camp and tour. The other directors and myself run The Knights on a nightly practice schedule in the fall and winter months, slowing down to a near halt in practice as winter ends, and then picking everything right back up in the spring before camp. Unlike most drum corps, you get a practice show, a test. You spend nearly all of your fall learning the 'wrong show' so we can test your endurance level, see if you can make the cut."

Matt entered Laura's thoughts, but she tried to push him out of her mind as Mr. Hamon drew closer and closer to where she stood at the near end of the line, Jon next to her.

"We're different. We get a lot of crap from the corporation for it and they've tried to conform us to the standard practices and beliefs of other corps. They say it's not fair to demand so much from young adults who need to work jobs and have school and I think what they have to say means less then the dirt on this field." Mr. Hamon's voice grew louder over the speaker and it hurt Laura's ears, trying to keep her eyes from squinting from the combination of bright sunlight in front of her and piercing sounds from the speakers all around the field. "We work differently! And that's why we're different. That's why we win championships! That's why we're the best out there! You are going to be melted down these next few weeks and molded into something extraordinary. If you thought camp was tough a few months ago, you had better think again."

Mr. Hamon stopped in front of Laura, still facing away from her, causing Laura to catch her breath.

"On your drum major's command of fall out, get in your first set of the first movement of the show. Up in the press box are two other instructors you might have heard about: Trygve Riedar and Courtney Shiffel. They'll be watching you as we go through the pathetic excuse of a show we have at the moment and will be on the field later to assist us in fixing the drill."

Signaling Thomas, the assistant drum major gave the command to fall out and the corps members ran to their first position on the field, the nervousness stifling in the thick summer air. Laura ran around Mr. Hamon and tried to ignore the fact the percussion instructor, from where he sat in the stands with Paul and Mr. Deleyney, was keeping a very close eye on her.

A very close eye indeed.

* * *

_Oh, another mystery going on here! Hehe... I'm not sure how this is going to pan out yet (honestly, I don't; I freewrite most of this novel, so this was an unexpected twist for my plot bunnies, the fluffy little things!). Now that I've finished off several of my other projects, some of which are posted on FFN, I should have more time for Hearts, especially after drumline season is over. (It ends on the last Saturday in March and I'm having mixed feelings about the whole thing) and scholarship stuff is taken care of, now that I've found my college and am already starting to get ready to head out after graduation! Gah! NOOOO! _

_Anyway, I'm rambling again, which isn't so cool when readers just want to read, leave a comment, and wonder in anticipation what could befall Laura and her friends (and not so much friends) in the next chapter! Hehe... Thank you very much for reading and for the comments! Please leave a review! Thanks again and Happy Reading!_


	52. A Late Night Emergency

_Hi, everyone! After the rather spammy review left by a "famous" flammer, I decided to take a bit of a break from Hearts until my laughter subsided and I felt some more inspiration to resume work on the story. For those of you a part of the Facebook community, we all had a good laugh, didn't we? _

_Drumline season is now over for me and, like I promised, there will be more time for me to work on Hearts. That is, until the summer marching season starts! Hehe... I don't know if I'm going to finish out my senior year with my school's marching band or audition for a local drum corps, but I don't have to make that choice now. Right now, all I have to do is present you with: the lastest chapter of Hearts! Thanks, everyone, for your patience and support! Onward!!!_

* * *

**A Late Night Emergency**

"Hey, dudes," Jake said before Jon had even opened the door. Laura and Chris, who had been sitting on Chris' bunk, playing an animated game of cards, looked over as Jake waved. Waving back, Laura wondered if she should jump off the bunk and into attention or continue with the game of cards. Neither seemed appropriate and Laura sat there, dangling her legs over the side of the bunk, wondering what to do.

"What brings you here?" Jon asked, looking as confused as Laura felt.

"I'm moving in. I gave up my room for the new instructors and I was told I could stay here," the head drum major answered, moving a bag into the doorway to keep Jon from closing the door on him. Jon, smiling, tried to move it back and, in a matter of seconds, there was a war going on between the trumpet section leader and the head drum major. Biting her lip, Laura watched Chris jump off the bed and run to help his drum major win the battle. Under the bunk she was sitting on, Thomas was laying in his bed, still dressed in practice clothes, pouring over the drill book, not making a move or even acknowledging there were three boys about to rip the dorm door off it's hinges.

"Help?" Jon called, almost overpowered by the two older boys, who were now trying to pin him against the wall with the door. Shrugging, Laura carefully jumped off the bunk and tried to help Jon escape the small confines of Behind The Door. She shrieked in mingled excitement and fear as the door handle came close to ramming her in the stomach and, bracing her back against the wall, pushed with all her might against the door. Thomas rolled his eyes and snapped for them to knock it off, his order lost in the grunts and squeals and laughter as Laura and Jon slowly began moving Chris and Jake backwards and out of the room.

"What's going on? Knock it off!"

Mr. Hamon's booming voice cut through the noise and Chris and Jake stepped away from the door, letting it swing backwards into Laura and Jon, who were still trapped behind the door, hidden from view. Laura held her breath and motioned for Jon to do the same: if Hamon didn't know they were there, they might not get in trouble. As Jake was yelled at for being a poor example and Chris was chastised for helping in the destruction of dorm equipment, Laura looked over and saw Thomas looking right back, over the top of his drill book. His cold, impassive face suddenly broke into an amused grin and Laura let go of her breath, a little too loudly because Chris started to snort in laughter, ruining Laura's and Jon's hiding spot.

"Get out from behind there," the drill instructor snapped and they obliged, Laura standing close to Jon as if he could protect her from Mr. Hamon's wrath. "I expected better from you two. What are you, eight? Knock it off!" Laura bowed her head in shame, half genuine, half in hope it would make her appear meek and humble so Hamon didn't yell anymore. Dropping the cot on the ground in front of them, Mr. Hamon shook his head and left, purposefully shutting the door slowly behind him and then coining them in. After the fumbling of fitting a penny in between the door jam and the door itself stopped and Hamon's footsteps faded away, Chris resumed laughing and invited Laura to continue the game of cards. Laura declined; after getting yelled at for joining in on the fun, she didn't feel much like playing anymore that night.

"Well, where should I set this up?" Jake asked, "I'm assuming every bunk is taken."

"At night you can put it in the middle of the floor and during the day you can fold the cot up and store it in the bathroom," Thomas said, never looking up, the smile gone from his face and replaced once again by the look of aggravated concentration. Jake, wrinkling up his face, nodded in agreement.

"I feel so stupid tonight," he admitted, joking as he unfolded the cot the drill instructor had found for him. "Honestly, I'm not a leader at all. I don't even have enough brain cells awake to give me the common sense not to mess around when Hamon could show up."

"We all have to act foolish once in a while," Jon reasoned, helping Jake. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Thomas said, "Jake is a drum major and thus he must act like a drum major, not crashing doors into people."

"Crashing doors into people?" Jon mouthed to Chris, who shrugged and started putting the cards back in their cardboard box.

"But, Thomas, there is something just not right about reading drill sheets at all hours. You've gotta act like a boy once in a while," Jake said, sitting on the cot, facing Thomas. "I knew you were serious, but, man... You've gotta put that thing away."

"One of us needs to know it," Thomas replied, Laura raising her eyebrows. Usually, Thomas accepted Jake's advice without a word in protest, but this attitude was something she wasn't expecting. Jake seemed to think the same thing by his expression and shook his head.

"Fine. If you want to act like this, you can. But you're going to miss out on so much."

"It's not like I've never marched with this corps before, Jake."

"Making memories while reading your drill book..."

"I've made memories."

"While reading your drill book? Keep up the act, Thomas. You'll regret it."

Jake wasn't threatening Thomas, but there was a definite tension in the air. Chris kept his mouth shut and arranged his sneakers so they sat just right on his shelf. Jon settled himself on his bed above Laura, shifting uncomfortably, making the springs squeak. Laura, who sat behind Jake on her own bed, turned away, not wanting to look at Thomas' angry glare as he continued to read through that binder of drill, the binder she had helped put together over the winter while her arm was still hurt. Thomas wasn't exactly ruining the evening, but she wished Jake's arrival could have been as much fun after Mr. Hamon left as it was before the drill instructor had found them practically breaking down a door.

"Hey, you want some candy?" Chris said, breaking out a box of sweets. Jon and Jake nodded and the three boys started a conversation on which candy had the most sugar, but Laura grabbed her pajamas and headed for the bathroom, exhasperated.

* * *

The soap felt so good on her face after the long day of marching, washing away every bit of dirt and blade of grass that had found it's way onto Laura and her clothes. The corps had done nearly three hours of endurance training that afternoon instead of learning more of the music and routine. Running around the track that circled the football field was one of the most boring things Laura had done in ages. If there had been something to look at besides the same trees and rocks every time she made a lap, it might have gone better. But, in the end, Laura resigned herself to looking at her feet. That is, until the movement instructor had seen her and talked with her about the fact you don't look at your feet as you march, so why fall into that habit when you run? 

At least he had ran with her for a while as he talked with her. Jon and Jake seemed to be racing, leaving Laura behind as they ran at break neck speed a few times around the track, taking one lap to rest, then dashing again. Laura was at the end of the corps, the slowest of them all. She hoped it was because she was still out of shape and maybe because her legs weren't as long as the rest, but the little voice in her head told her she was last because she was awful at running. Always was. Always will be. It was embarrassing to look over and see Mr. Deleyney looking at her with a critical eye from his seat in the stands as he worked on the music, awful to realize that, as she had been taking a short break and walking a part of her lap, Beau had been staring at her the entire time. It was shameful that Adam should have to prod her into going faster as he ran up behind her and she hated the way Mr. Hamon seemed to sneer as she panted and staggered near the end of the exercise.

The prickle of sweat running down her back, soaking through the oversize short sleeved shirt she wore, kept her mind off the fact all the boys seemed to enjoy watching Courtney run, especially for the fact she wore a tank top and shorts short enough to make Laura blush. She felt a little jealous that, when Courtney would pass Jake and Jon, they would always exchange glances and smile as the female instructor continued on her way. At least Thomas didn't fall victim to that spell. He kept a steady pace, always focused and determined. The fact he didn't look weak at all, whereas some boys looked just as bad as Laura felt, made her admire him even more. The pale face looked almost bronze in the afternoon light and, as he passed her, she could see his powerful muscles move, carrying him away. Ashamed she was acting just like how the boys acted when they saw Courtney run, Laura tried to keep her eyes to herself.

Trygve and Courtney ran together most of the time. How they could talk and run at that speed at the same time astounded Laura. Trygve was a very muscular man and there were more than a few looks of envy coming from the corps members as Trygve passed by them with Courtney at his side. Laura could swear that Trygve even winked once as he caught a percussionist gazing a little too long at Courtney's backside. When Jake blew his whistle and motioned for the corps members to gather in the middle of the field, Laura could have collapsed in happiness, but was told to get off the ground as soon as she had sat down.

"Your muscles will cramp if you rest like that," Jake told her cheerfully, looking like he had just come back from a quiet walk in a park. Laura envied him. He also slowed her down as she guzzled nearly all of her water.

"Honestly, girl, did you not go to a marching camp before now? You should know all this stuff by now. Were you or were you not a drum major at one time?"

Laura tried to ignore Mr. Hamon as he walked past and saw Jake take her water away, Laura contemplating attacking Jake from behind to get her bottle back. She didn't want to think of her old marching band right now. In fact, because she didn't want to think about it, she was forgetting all of the rules she had helped enforce, such as not drinking all the water like a thirsty elephant. Laura appreciated Jake's kindness and was glad he didn't let her get away with it, as odd as that sounded.

Adam led the group in Round Two of stretches and Laura eventually had to smack Jon in the shoulder for not paying enough attention to Adam and too much attention to Courtney, who was stretching, too. Paul had taken the colorguard away after that and into the building to work on who-knew-what involving stretches with flags and rifles and Mr. Hamon had split the corps into their sections. The section leaders were supposed to run their section through a series of marching exercises, including marching to a yard line as best as you could and then, if you didn't march properly, hustling back and going again. As soon as you marched five times to a satisfactory level, you were able to sit down and continue stretching while watching everyone else be put through their paces. Laura only had to hustle back twice and was proud of herself when Trygve, who had been overseeing the trumpets as Jon gave the orders, complimented her on her roll stepping. As she sat down, she watched with satisfaction as Andrew had to hustle back more than a handful of times and finally scratched past his "test" because Trygve said they were wasting too much time by making him go again.

Laura had been too tired to even enjoy dinner after their endurance practice, eating as much as her stomach would allow her to and then wandering off to her dorm. There she had found Chris, fast asleep on his bed, dirty sneakers still on his feet, and Thomas, still looking over his book of drill. Chris wasn't looking very well when Laura had seen him last, walking off the field. For him to miss dinner was unusual, but he was probably just as tired as she was, maybe even more. Now, washing away all the dirt was the best feeling in the world and all Laura could think of. Her mind hummed as if there was an entire hive of bees stuck between her ears and arms could hardly find the strength to grab her towel to wipe off the water on the counter. Changing into one of her best tank tops (heavens knew she would only wear it to bed and not on the field) and her softest pajama pants, Laura unlocked all the bathroom doors and walked into the darkened, quiet dorm room. Jon had showed up and was sitting on top of his bunk, changing his shirt.

"Hey," he said softly, "You're not supposed to be in here when I'm undressing."

"Yeah, just repaying the favor," Laura said with a smile as she ignored Jon and crept into her bed. Chris was in such a deep sleep that he wasn't even snoring and Jake, stretched out on his cot, gave a snort as Laura's mattress creaked when she crawled under the covers. "Goodnight."

"'Night," Jon muttered as he, too, curled up under his blankets. The window was partly open, letting in the night air, the fragrance of grass and pavement drifting in through the window blinds. She was too tired to get up and shut the window, telling herself to enjoy the smell of weeds and dirt while she was still in bed instead of while she was out marching on the field. Looking across the room, in the dim light that came from the utility lights outside the building, she saw Thomas. He was pale again, the bronze look on the field just an illusion, and his face was haggard, exhausted. He had a hand under his pillow as if to keep it from running away while he slept and Laura could see the crook of his knee under his blanket, a muscle occasionally spasming.

She wanted to go over there and hug him, to crawl in beside him, or even wake him up to ask how he was feeling. But Laura knew he would hate that and it wouldn't do anything to help their awkward relationship after their "real" relationship had taken a nose dive. Why had she pushed him away? For heaven's sake, he gave her a necklace for Christmas. A freakin' necklace! He had been ready to hug her, to let her in through those walls of ice, and she had pushed him away. Burying her face in her pillow, Laura felt awful. Whenever she thought about Thomas, she felt awful, especially if she thought about the fact she almost had what she thought she wanted, what she still wanted.

Unhappy, Laura stretched her muscles, feeling them grow stiff by the minute now that they were allowed to rest for more than a few moments. Rolling over, away from where she could see Thomas, Laura shut her eyes and drifted to sleep.

* * *

It seemed like she had only been asleep for minutes when she was woken up by a retching sound coming from the bathroom. Frowning, Laura pulled the blankets down from around her face and saw the bathroom light was on, the door open. Jake and Thomas were still asleep and, when Laura tapped the bottom of Jon's bunk above her head, he grunted. Looking above Thomas, though, she could see a clump of blankets, but no Chris. For a moment, she considered staying in bed and letting Chris get whatever it was out of his system alone, but told herself she was being selfish and got up. Staggering to the bathroom, Laura was startled to find Chris leaning over the toilet, shaking. 

"Chris," Laura said, kneeling next to him, "Are you going to be okay?"

"I don't-- I don't know," he said, one hand clutching his side. "I feel sick."

"You don't look so well. What hurts?"

"Everything, but especially my side," he answered in a moan, holding his side harder as he emptied the rest of his stomach into the toilet. Horrified, Laura ran into the room and flicked on the lights, causing Jon to groan and flip over in his bed. Thomas sat up and, shading his eyes with his hand, asked what she thought she was doing.

"Chris isn't feeling well. I think he's really sick," Laura said, startled to find her voice was shaking. Thomas swung his legs over the side of the bed and followed Laura into the bathroom, tapping Jake's shoulder on his way. Laura stood back as Thomas walked to Chris' side and patted him lightly on the back.

"Do you know what's wrong?"

"No," Chris whispered, his face drawn and white. "Do you?"

Thomas looked Chris over and was soon joined by Jake, who rubbed his eyes so hard Laura wondered if he could see anymore. A look between them said it all.

"Chris, do you think you can get over this or do you want us to call for Mr. Deleyney?" Jake asked, holding Chris' arm.

"If I can stop hurling and my side stops hurting, I can get over it... I think," Chris said, turning green.

"Has this ever happened before?"

"Once when I was a kid, but it stopped after a little while. I think I can go back to bed. It doesn't seem like I have anything else to throw up and my side feels a little better."

With his drum major's help, Chris got up and leaned on Jake, panting. Laura gasped when Chris fell to his knees again and cried out. As Thomas knelt by Chris, Jake opened the door, the coin stuck between the door and the door jam falling with a thump barely audible on the carpet. Laura shook Jon, who had, unbelievably, gone back to sleep.

"Jon, Chris is hurt," she said quietly, shaking him until he looked at her. "We don't know what's wrong. Jake went for help."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know!" Laura cried, shaking her head, "Now get up!"

Thomas, Laura, and Jon sat with Chris, who seemed to grow worse by the time Jake arrived with Mr. Hamon, Mr. Deleyney, and Trygve, all in their pajamas. Mr. Hamon shooed them away and, after a few moments, Laura saw their instructors exchange a look she understood.

"Chris, we're sending you to the hospital. The ambulance will be here shortly," Mr. Hamon said as Trygve got out his cellphone from a pocket of his pajama pants, making the emergency call outside in the hallway. "We think it's your appendix."

Chris only nodded and struggled to stand, but Mr. Hamon pushed him back down onto the floor, ordering him not to move.

"Boys," Mr. Deleyney said, "And girls," he added as an afterthought, "I'm going to ask you to leave the room. Thank you for getting us before this got any worse. I would like to you go down to the dining hall on the first floor and wait for one of us to come and get you, alright?"

Laura nodded and let Jon lead her away, casting one look back at Chris, who looked absolutely miserable sitting in the middle of the room. Mr. Deleyney waved the drum majors away, too, but as they followed Jon and Laura, Chris reached out and grabbed Thomas' hand.

"No, stay with me!" he said, nearly pleading. "Stay here."

Mr. Hamon nodded his consent and the music instructor sighed before agreeing, Thomas looking startled but sitting down next to Chris all the same. Jake shut the door behind him and the three went where they were told.

* * *

Miraculously, Jake found a few dollars in his pocket and bought three hot chocolates from the hot drinks machine in the hall. The wide open space seemed so empty in the middle of the night, the long silent rows of tables and chairs eerie in the dim light. Jon and Laura sat across from one another at a round table near one of the windows and Jake pulled up a chair between the two. Resting his arms on the back of the chair, Jake managed a little smile as Jon and Laura thanked him. 

"Don't mention it. I'm just surprised I actually had change. In my pajama pockets, no less," he joked.

"Is Chris going to be okay?" Jon asked, breathing in the chocolate scented steam rising from his foam cup.

"Who can say? I bet he'll be fine, though. They go in, take out the appendix, keep him on bed rest for a few days, and he'll be marching again!"

"Poor Chris," Laura muttered. "I'm so happy I found him before it got worse."

"Me, too," Jake said, patting Laura's hand. "Now drink that chocolate before it gets cold."

Laura smiled a little. Jake sounded just like a big brother. In the silence, they heard the faint sound of sirens coming up the road next to the window and, in a flurry of blue and red lights, the ambulance zipped on by.

"Well, there they are."

Jon's voice rang out in the hall and he blushed for no reason. It was sacrilege to talk that loud at a time like this.

"Why would Chris want Thomas to stay behind?" Laura asked, unable to keep the question to herself. "I mean, why not me or Jon or you, Jake? What has Thomas done that Chris--"

"Thomas has this weird quality about him," Jake answered, re-adjusting his chair so he sat normally. "Even though he acts like one of the coldest guys in the world, he actually cares. And he has this quality about him that, no matter what, if you're around him, everything is going to be okay. You of all people should know this."

"I don't see why I should know that," Laura replied, looking at the table top as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "I know a lot about him, but I didn't ever think of him like that. In fact, I would expect the winds of a frozen tundra to come over you the moment he touches your hand."

Even though that made little sense, Jake nodded his head.

"Things are a bit different between Thomas and every person in the corps. Everyone has different levels. What you see the first time you meet someone is the first level, what you see the second time is the second, and so on. But, by the time you get down to the core of a person, you realize they aren't the same on the inside as they are on the outside. People get to different levels and that's where they stop; that's why some people know a particular person better than others do. Chris sees something in Thomas most people don't. Thomas is a protection, a commanding presence, even in flannel pants and an old shirt in the middle of the night after a long day's practice."

Laura smiled and Jon chuckled into his hot chocolate as Jake continued on.

"But, Chris wanted Thomas because there is something about him none of us has. I don't know if people really see me as a drum major or a joker, like I let everybody think I am. Thomas pours over his drill chart every night and I eat candy; it looks like I don't do as much work as Thomas. But, I read my chart just as often as he does, when I'm alone, when no one is around. I hide that because I don't want people to think I'm not approachable. Jon, you're a newbie section leader. You get a lot of crap for that, but, inside people really think that's cool. They want to do that and they're jealous you got the chance earlier than most. And Laura, I don't think I even need to tell you your story."

"The point is, The Knights have always done things different. We have three full time instructors in the fall and winter months when other corps have three instructors per section. We have a handful of instructors in the spring who Deleyney and Hamon pick because they know a lot of things when other corps have an entire army behind them, all specially trained for a specific thing. Thomas takes after the instructors: even in the oddest and most uncomfortable situations, Thomas looks like he knows what he's doing, even if he doesn't. And that's comforting. That fixes everything, even if it really doesn't in the end."

The ambulance raced by the windows, going the opposite way.

"And there he goes," Jake said, finishing his speech and taking the first sip of his hot chocolate, which was undoubtedly cold by now. "I wonder if Thomas went with him."

"I'm right here," Thomas said, walking over to the table and sitting down across from Jake. In the stunned silence, Thomas explained that the ambulance workers wouldn't let more than one person go in the ambulance with Chris and Mr. Deleyney went."

"How is he?" Jon asked, crunching the foam cup in his hands.

"He'll be okay as long as they get the appendix out. Apparently he almost had to have it removed when he was younger, but the infection sort of fizzled out and he got better. I think, because he was working so hard today, mixed with the stress of a new diet and schedule, it popped back up again."

"Well, aren't you the doctor," Jake said, laughing. "We should have just given you a knife and some bandages and let you take out the appendix!"

This wasn't remotely funny, but everyone chuckled at least a little bit, more out of nervousness than anything. Trygve appeared and told them to go back to their room; now that Chris and Deleyney were gone, they could go back to sleep and they would hear more the next morning. As they filed by Trygve and his watchful eyes, they tossed their chocolate cups into the trash and Laura found the overwhelming urge to hold Thomas' hand. He looked so tired and, well, almost scared.

Laura was surprised when Thomas took her hand, thinking her same thoughts.

"He'll be okay, Laura," Thomas said quietly, giving her fingers a squeeze. She could only nod and, after they got back to their room and she went to bed for what she hoped was the last time that night, Laura found she couldn't go to sleep.

* * *

_And there we are! I tried to make a great chapter for you, considering you've waited for weeks for an update! Leave a review (not a spammy review, that is!) and let me know anything you have in your head about Hearts! There is always a great discussion going on in the Facebook community, too (mostly centered around Thomas/Laura... hehe...) I, meanwhile, will go and watch "The Music Man" and eat left over Easter candy. I hope you all had a wonderful Easter! Like I said before, now that I don't have to carry my bass around anymore (I'm on 2nd bass in the winter, a drum major in the summer) I'll have more time for Hearts! Poor Chris..._

_Thank you all for reading and thank you double for leaving me a review!_


	53. A Talk Between Instructors

_Hello, everyone! You can yell at me for not updating sooner because I probably deserve it! I've been so busy lately the only time I'm able to work on Hearts regularly is in my head! Hehe... I've had band concerts, musicials, and tons of other events going on (including winning the John Phillip Sousa award, making my conducting debut in front of a few hundred people, and my looming graduation, if I can say so without sounding pompous... Ha!). I'm so thankful for all the faithful readers, new and old, for sticking with the story. We've had some great discussions on the Facebook community (which I'm so appreciative for!) and I have been working on the ending a little, too! The end! Gah! Well, it won't be for many more chapters to come, yet, so enjoy this new chapter! I'm sorry if it's not my absolute best, but I'm coming off a long vacation from it and my sunburn has been distracting me, too...) Enjoy and Onward!_

* * *

**A Talk Between Instructors**

"Five, six, seven, eight," Laura heard from across the field, Paul shouting out numbers at the colorguard. She allowed her eyes to stray and, in the glare of the sun, she could see brightly colored practice flags being swung through the air, snapping as the boys went into their next move and ran in a circle. Suddenly, someone crashed into her side and Laura staggered, nearly dropping her trumpet. Tears of surprise and pain crept up in her eyes and Laura quickly regained her composure; she had been distracted and therefore missed her mark, getting run into. Well, Hamon had said that was going to happen if you were daydreaming, which she was. Laura could tell Craig, the boy next to her, was frustrated and she was glad the next move would take her away from him and all the way to where Jon was standing. It was one of the few moments in the show where Laura and Jon were together. This was the part before Jon's trumpet solo and Laura was disappointed when the marching instructor told Jake to halt the corps for a quick break.

The colorguard kept practicing as every section leader ran to get their section's cooler full of water and sports drinks, an interesting combination but essential. Jon called Craig over to help carry the full cooler and, as Craig walked past Laura, he snarled at her, "Pay attention next time!" Laura, who had her hands on her knees, could only nod and watch Craig's and Jon's shoes walk through the grass and away from her. She was shaking, sweating, unable to focus, and they were hardly through their afternoon practice. Maybe it was because of the sectional that morning. Thomas had been usually vicious toward Jon and the entire section was on edge, including Laura, who felt torn between supporting her drum major or section leader. Normally she didn't support the behavior of either of them when they fought during sectionals, but she found herself becoming increasingly annoyed with them both. It didn't help Chris was gone, either.

Thomas had let them know at breakfast that Deleyney had visited the hospital after Chris's late night surgery to remove his appendix. The music director wasn't able to visit him, but was updated by the doctors. Chris would be fine in a few days, but couldn't be expected to fulfill his practice expectations. Laura and Jon had heard Mr. Hamon and Trygve were none too thrilled to hear this, but what could they do about it? The poor guy was in the hospital!

"Last night was a late one, huh?" said a voice, Laura looking up quickly and right into the sun. As she blinked away the pain, the voice laughed. It was Beau, his drum bag hanging off his shoulder, face contorted into a smirk that wasn't cruel or kind at the same time.

"Oh, yeah," Laura muttered, trying to regain some composure by standing up, swaying on her feet. "Have you heard about Chris yet? How is he doing?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, I just thought, since you were an instructor, you would-"

"No, I don't."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Laura tried not to make eye contact with the percussionist, who seemed to enjoy making Laura nervous.

"Hey, we have water! Laura, come drink up!" Jon called, waving her over. Laura, thankful for being rescued once again by her friend, asked to be excused and hurried over to the cooler, taking an offered paper cup before getting in line.

"What did Beau want?" Jon asked, taking the last spot in line, like a good section leader, "You seemed nervous."

"I don't know what he wanted. I left before we could really talk about anything," Laura said, sighing as she watched a boy in her section take more than the allowed amount of water; that meant there wouldn't be nearly enough for Jon. The sun was hot, nearly too hot, and Laura wished she could just sit down. She didn't even care about water and how much she got. As long as the next hour of practice went by quickly, Laura thought she could get through without fainting or making a fool of herself. Or being approached by Beau again, who made her even more uncomfortable than the pounding heat of the afternoon.

* * *

"Alright! Set one!" Trygve called into the microphone in the press box, smiling as he could hear a few groans from those who hadn't used their break to their advantage. He remembered marching in The Knights himself, picking up that baritone and wondering if it would attach itself to his body like some sort of weird infection, it was always with him. He had carried it back and forth and back again, but never complained.

"Wimps," he said softly, giving a little huff. He didn't mean it in a mean way, just stating it as a matter-of-fact. "If I would have moaned like that, I would have gotten three laps around the field with Old Rusty as the rest of the corps booed."

"What was that?" Courtney asked, flipping aimlessly through a book of some sort. "Sorry, didn't hear you the first time."

"I wasn't talking to you," Trygve said, gliding across the little room on the wheels of his chair to where Courtney was sitting, looking at one of Paul's guard costume catalogs. Trygve snorted. "I thought you were done with the guard?"

"I might be a drill instructor here, but I was once a guardie down there," she said, shrugging. "It's fun to go back once in a while. Oh, I like this one..." Courtney pointed to a uniform with light purple velvet pants and long sleeved black top. "With, a glitter hair band, this would look great-"

"I don't know, Courtney, you would look better in this one," Trygve said, pointing to the opposite page where a girl was dressed in hardly more than rags, none of which properly covered what needed to be hidden from a crowd. "I like it, at least."

Courtney smacked his shoulder with the catalog she quickly rolled up, but didn't fight very hard as he pulled her off the desk she was perched upon and into the chair with him. Through Courtney's laughing, Mr. Hamon tried to make his presence known, but it was when Mr. Deleyney cleared his throat that the two stopped flirting. Courtney jumped out of Trygve's chair and picked up the catalog that had fallen on the floor while Trygve turned bright red.

"Hey, don't look so guilty, you're both adults," Tyler said, grabbing his huge music folder out of his bag and flipping to the first page, which was very dog-eared and covered in corrections made with multicolored pens. He uncapped several of the pens, one of every color used in the notes from the binder, one in each finger so he could switch back and forth in colors quickly. "Set one, right?"

"Um, yeah," Trygve said, "Are we going through all four movements?"

"No, just the first two. Ready, Peter?"

Mr. Hamon nodded, his own book of drill in his lap. Courtney leaned over Peter's shoulder to get a better look at the drill; rarely did the instructors need their books since they composed and wrote the drill nearly all by themselves. They could hear and see anything the corps did right or wrong in their heads. Even though it was a habit, they never left their reference books behind when it came to running an excerpt.

"Mark one," Trygve said, the drum major's cue to raise their arms and begin. From the press box, the instructors watched as Jake started the corps, Thomas coming in a little late.

"He's going to beat himself up for that later, isn't he?" Courtney asked, looking with hawk eyes at Thomas.

"He's beating himself up for it right now," Peter said quickly, "Shush."

"Who's down there with them?" Tyler mentioned, flipping a page in his folder. "Adam and Beau, right?"

"And Paul. He's looking over the guard," Peter answered, "Shhh."

"Is this the movement with the 36 count spin or the-"

"I'm going to throw you all out of this press box if you don't let me focus," Peter said, trying to chuckle. His flashing eyes gave away his anger, however, and Trygve stopped talking, rolling his eyes before pulling Courtney away from the frustrated marching instructor. Everyone listened in silence, focused on the corps on the field.

As the corps told the story of a knight set of to find a princess captured by a dragon, the sun was setting, turning the grass darker and darker until it seemed the corps was marching on a slab of unpolished black stone. The fading light reflected off instruments and faces turned toward the sky. In the press box, the instructors could hardly make out the forms of the Adam, Paul, and Beau, all three of them locked in on a particular group, giving orders, supervising the performance from on the ground. Tyler watched carefully as Beau broke away from the percussion and stood in the bleachers on the very bottom step, watching the trumpets. Tyler couldn't see where Laura was, but could tell she was there by the way Beau turned his head.

"Do you see that?" he whispered to Peter, glancing at him. The marching instructor was watching Beau with narrowed eyes, a frown on his face. It was obvious he did. "What do you think of that?"

Peter never replied and, as the corps prepared to go into the second movement, Tyler motioned to Trygve, who called through the speakers for a halt. The drum majors stopped conducting and the sections stood at attention. They weren't going to turn on the stadium lights tonight, not for another fifteen minutes of practice when half the corps was nearly asleep on their feet.

"Good, corps. Adam, if you want to lead them in warm downs, go ahead," Tyler spoke into the microphone, leaning over Trygve to do so. "We'll run the entire show tomorrow. Good night, boys."

As the exhausted corps gathered around Adam and stretched their muscles one last time before staggering off to bed, Trygve shut off the power to the field and press box, all the directors filing out one by one. Tyler pulled Peter aside and whispered in his ear. Peter nodded and followed Courtney out the door, who was clinging to Trygve's belt loops playfully. The last one to leave the room, Tyler glanced out the large windows at the night sky that was fading quickly from amethyst to onyx. _Too bad,_ he thought, _I can't just crawl off to bed. I have to practically accuse one of my instructors of something I would rather not talk about..._

* * *

Laura didn't even bother to change in the bathroom. Jon was in bed already, snoring as soon as his head hit the pillow, and Thomas hadn't arrived yet from an impromptu meeting the directors had called after practice. Tossing her sweaty shirt aside, Laura walked to the window and opened it up, breathing in the night air. The screen wasn't on; in fact, Laura didn't know where it went, but it almost seemed like, without it, there was more interesting smells to be had that the screen could have filtered out, like the smell of flowers. Normally, all Laura smelt was the bruised grass in the field and the pavement from the parking lot near the dorm building where all the corps members slept. Now, she could smell flowers, the scent of lilacs and other plants that normally bloom in the spring. It was a familiar smell, one of Laura's favorites. She had even bought a bottle of spray that smelled like lilacs, she loved it so much. Taking another deep breath, Laura was surprised to find it grew stronger. Curious, she stepped to her left and found it was even more fragrant. Thinking for a few moments, doubtful, Laura climbed half way up the ladder to where Jon was sleeping. He looked like he was passed out, sprawled all over the bed, already tangled in his blankets. Taking a sniff, Laura went down to her own bed space and checked her shelf: her bottle of lilac perfume was definitely moved. Resisting a laugh, Laura put the cap back on the bottle and put it away, making a note on what to buy Jon for Christmas. Throwing on a tank top and pajama pants, Laura turned off the lights in the room and crawled under the covers, snuggling up in her blankets, still smelling the pungent lilac scent Jon had sprayed all over.

It was if minutes and not hours had passed when Thomas accidentally woke Laura up. He had tried to creep into the room undetected, not even turning on the lights, but a smacking sound had startled Laura out of a deep sleep. Shocked at the fact Thomas was only half dressed, she smiled as she saw him look over at her and realize he was missing his shirt. As he threw the same grey shirt on he had worn recently to bed, he apologized.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he muttered, pulling his blankets back. Laura watched as he went into his bed like he was entering a pool, one leg at a time, easing into the blankets like a swimmer lowering himself into cold water. It was amazing to watch and Laura blinked rapidly as she realized she was staring. "I saw a mosquito and I didn't want it to bite anyone."

"Thank you," Laura said, waking herself enough to prop her head on her hand so she could get a better look at him. "Thomas, how is Chris doing? Did you talk about it at your meeting?"

"I left right after the meeting was over. We didn't really talk about Chris," Thomas said, surprising Laura. It wasn't often Thomas would want to talk this late at night, especially to her. "He's still in the hospital, but the surgery went well. It was pretty clean, quick, easy. His parents drove to come see him and they don't want him to march the rest of the summer, but he wants to."

"Will we see him again?"

"Of course. If you want to march, you're not going to stop just because you were set back a little."

Laura could have snorted at how ironic it was. Thomas realized what he said and sighed, "I didn't mean it in terms of- I know you and- Agh..." Thomas's voice trailed off and he arranged his blankets before changing the subject. "Jake will be coming in soon; he nearly fell asleep at the meeting. Are you doing alright, Laura?"

"Me?" Laura was surprised he would ask. It made her nervous and excited at the same time as Thomas turned to face her like she was facing him. "I'm tired, but okay. My sunburn doesn't hurt very much anymore."

"Good. I noticed you didn't look very well during practice when Beau came up to you. Get some sleep, Laura. Goodnight."

As he turned and faced the wall, Thomas glanced over at her and gave a small smile, his eyes already blurry with sleep. Laura settled back down into her bed, smiling, also. She snuggled back into her blankets and, just as she was about to drift off to sleep, the door opened. Jake flipped on the lights and swore, causing everyone to wake up, including lilac-boy Jon.

"What is it?" Jon asked, rubbing his eyes, trying to bring Jake into focus.

"What smells like flowers?" the drum major said, frowning. "Laura, you smell good."

"Not me, it's Jon," Laura muttered, pulling the covers up over her head.

"Jon, I never knew you liked-"

"Shut up! What is it that you swore for?" Jon said, glancing over at the comatose assistant drum major in his bed and the still made bed Chris would have occupied.

"Someone must have left the window open without the screen, because there are tons of mosquitoes in here."

* * *

Tyler, Adam, Paul, Peter, and Beau all sat at a long table in the dining hall, sipping hot chocolate from the same machine Jon, Laura, and Jake got their drinks from the night before as Chris was rushed to the hospital. In fact, nearly everything in the room was the same as it was the previous night. The dim lights reminded the instructors wearily that they would have to be up in a little under six hours for another day of hard work and Adam, who had finished his drink, was balancing his chin on his cup, eyes shut."Courtney and Trygve left pretty fast after the meeting," he said as he adjusted the cup to balance his chin upon better. "They could hardly keep their hands to themselves all night."

"You're just sore you don't have a girl," Peter said, smirking.

"You, too," was the reply and Tyler shook his head.

"I don't see why we need to talk about them," Beau said, tapping with one of his practice sticks on the table. His stick bag was in his lap and he was tapping his foot along with the beat, leaving little marks in the faux wood tables with the plastic tip of the stick.

"Well, relationships are something we need to discuss once in a while, like relationships between instructors, and between students..." Peter said, glancing over at Tyler. He was setting the stage for the question Tyler had been dying to ask Beau nearly all week.

"Like Brandon and Luke? I thought we weren't going to bring that up," Paul said, oblivious to the tension rising between Peter and Beau. "They're happy together and I couldn't have two finer dancers in the guard-"

"Paul," Tyler said, cutting him off, "We're not talking about them. We're-"

"What do you think about Laura, Beau?" Peter asked, crunching the edges of his styrofoam cup between his fingernails.

"She's a sweet girl. Too bad she's having a rough time fitting in here," Paul started before taking a close look at Tyler's warning glance. With an inaudible "oh," Paul understood what Peter was trying to do: ask Beau why he had been particularly interested in watching Laura the past few days.

"I mean, I know she managed to melt and refreeze the heart of the assistant drum major," Peter continued, "But does she know you somehow or have you-"

"I know what you were all thinking," Beau said, never looking up from the table, where he had brought out a second drum stick and was tapping out complex rhythms. "Somehow, I've become infatuated with Laura and, if you don't nip this in the bud right now, I'll somehow sneak into her dorm, take her captive, and you'll never have her back."

"If that was a joke, it wasn't funny," Tyler said, frowning. Beau's smile grew wider. "Really, now, tell us what's going on. If you're not keeping an eye on Andrew, you're watching Laura. It's put all of us on edge. We trust you, Beau, but we want to know what's going on."

"I'm amazed you would think such things about me, Hamon. Haven't we known each other for years? Tyler, you, too. I would have thought you two would trusted me."

"Beau," Peter warned, "We're just-"

"You're over analyzing it," Beau snapped, tapping a little too hard on the tabletop and breaking one of the plastic tips off the left stick. "I'm not attracted to Laura in any way and I don't give a damn about Andrew. Heavens knows that boy will end up in jail the moment he's out of his parent's house."

Adam dropped his jaw and Paul looked into his lap, twisting his fingers. Only Tyler and Peter kept looking at Beau, waiting for him to continue. Beau looked up while he put the broken stick away in his bag and brought out another one, continuing to tap as he spoke.

"Believe it or not, I do know Laura. She doesn't remember me, though, and I wouldn't expect her to. I know Andrew, too. I worked with both their bands when I still hired myself out to high school marching units. I was the percussion instructor for Andrew's band and the marching instructor for the drumline in Laura's band. Andrew was young, maybe in his second season, when he quit. He said he hated it and he fought with the director to let him quit. Only after he ruined three snare heads and a bass harness out of spite did the director kick him out. How Andrew got into this corps is concerning," Beau said, giving a meaningful glance at Tyler.

"We don't discriminate based on home life when a potential member comes in to audition," Tyler growled, "If they can play to our standards, they can join."

"Anyway, go on," Adam said, eager to hear more. Paul was also on the edge of his seat, listening as Beau's voice echoed in the dinning hall.

"I remember talking with his director and finding out Andrew had wanted to be a percussionist instead of a trombone player, like he was in the band. He was taking lessons and everything but the instructor didn't think he was ready. Andrew retaliated and I was the one who had to fix that harness the day of a parade and replace all the snare heads he had stabbed with a drum key until they were shredded. His band was actually he last one I worked with before I decided to stop working with marching bands."

"Laura's band was amazing before their director screwed them over. State champions in their division, regional heroes to other bands, and so many first place awards their awards cases couldn't hold anymore. By and by, they fell from glory and finally folded in on themselves. After their director left and their money was cut by the school, they probably could have went on, at least for a few more years. But, they just gave up. I enjoyed watching them in parades and at their halftime shows," Beau continued, still tapping on the table, his words blending with the soft snap of plastic on wood. "I left their band a few years before they fell apart, at the end of Laura's first season, if I remember right. I remember thinking when I saw her lead her section _that girl is not going to make it very far_. I remember thinking _she should just quit like so many of them do_ because she couldn't march. She was awful. I don't even feel bad for saying it because you can't mince words when it comes to results. Laura couldn't do it. But, after I stopped working with her band, I still saw her in parades and shows and was shocked that year after year she would be better and in a higher ranking."

"In the end, she was a drum major. I was blown away when I realized it was her up in front, blowing that whistle. She was smiling, enjoying herself, and she could get anyone to do anything she needed them to do, whether it was stand at attention without talking or help fix someone else's uniform. I heard that, at least. What I saw was someone who had proved me wrong. After her band fell apart, I didn't really think anything of her until I realized she was the girl you were talking about when you said you got a female into the corps. There are thousands of Laura around here, but I didn't know it was her until I saw her."

"What do you think of her?" Tyler asked, sipping his lukewarm chocolate.

"She's gone back to the beginning," Beau said, "Laura can't march, can't get it together, can't do anything much but be a distraction for the drum major and that newbie section leader you have leading the trumpets, which I think is a horrible move, by the way." Beau smiled as Tyler frowned harder, lines appearing in his forehead. "I'm not afraid to say it and I'll stick by it, too, but... You'll have your best member of this corps in a few years if Laura sticks with The Knights, granted she'll keep up the hard work." Beau missed a beat in the pattern he was playing as he finished what he was saying, startled everyone was looking at him with open mouths and astonishment on their faces. The wrong beat made Beau's hands fumble and the stick bounced off the table, out of his grasp, and rolled across the floor to Peter's feet.

"I'm sorry, Beau, for not trusting you," Tyler said, getting up and clapping Beau on the back. "I should have realized-"

"You couldn't have known, so I forgive you," Beau said, standing up and patting Tyler's arm. "I didn't realize I was being so stalker-ish. Goodnight, Tyler."

"Is that even a word? Stalker-ish?" Paul asked Adam as they both threw their cups away and muttered a good night before walking off and out of the dining hall with Deleyney, leaving Peter and Beau alone. Peter walked across the room and picked up the escapee drumstick, handing it back to Beau.

"I really feel stupid," Beau said, taking the stick back and placing the reunited pair into the bag before swinging it over his shoulder. "I just told an entire story to an audience of people who I thought trusted me."

"Nothing has been right this year, Beau, I hope you understand," Peter said, shrugging. "It was good to hear that, actually. It gave us more faith in Laura, a little more to worry about with Andrew, and I'm glad you shared what you knew about them with us. It's something we should know about."

"Did you all really think I was-"

"I would be lying if I didn't say we weren't a little concerned but... at the same time, you're not that sort. We just needed to talk about it, I think," Peter said as he walked out of the dining hall with Beau, leaving his empty cup on the table for someone else to find and toss out in the morning.

"You're pretty protective over that girl," Beau mentioned as he parted from Peter's company for that night, soon to see him again at practice the next day.

"That girl is saving the corps."

* * *

_Ta-dah! I'm glad I got that settled! I was setting Beau up to be a stalker and I realized, "Oh, jeeze, my percussion instructor's name is Beau and look what I did! If he ever read this, I would die of embarrassment," so if he ever stumbles across this: Beau, you're NOT a creepy stalker person. Your character is. Hahah! Joking, joking... Anyway, thank you for the awesome PM's and reviews you've left me, both here and on Facebook, and I hope to hear from you after this chapter, too! Get out and enjoy the sun! Marching season is starting! "The most wonderful time of the year..." Happy Reading!_


	54. Embarassing Moments

_Hello! This took such a long time to update! I wrote the chapter in about an hour and a half, catching up with everything I've set down so far, but as far as my life after graduation from high school goes: wow. Not only is it my last season with my marching band and as a drum major, I've had practice for weeks, a huge grad party, family and friends everywhere, and the height of parade season was this past weekend. Our band did well, including taking a first place last Friday night as well as Outstanding Guard and Drumline. Needless to say, I am pleased. But I'm going through marching withdrawls and a slight depression that my band is on their third day of the California trip we've been planning for two years while I'm at home regretting that college music lessons cost so much._

_I hope you enjoy this next installment of Hearts and I'll try not to take so long updating next time. Thank you, everyone, for being so patient. Onward!_

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* * *

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Laura looked longingly over to the food truck where the volunteers for The Knights were preparing what apparently was a traditional ice cream feast before packing and leaving that evening for their first show site. Mr. Deleyney was talking, something about pride and dedication and respect, but that ice cream was just too tempting, especially out in the hot sun, for Laura to give her full attention to her music instructor. One of the volunteers caught her eye and winked, holding up an empty ice cream cone knowingly and slowly adding mint chocolate chip treat into the sugar spun-

"Is there a problem, Ms. Harring?" Beau said as he walked past her and stopped as a thin dribble of drool came out of the corner of the trumpet player's mouth. Horrified, Laura shook her head and wiped her cheek, blushing bright red. Beau continued walking along the ranks, tapping his newest pair of sticks against his right leg. The keys attached to his belt loop jingled and rang every time he played anything faster than an eighth note and, to show off, Beau intended on making as much noise as possible to intimidate the younger members as Mr. Deleyney wrapped up this speech. Every section was lined up in a straight row, at attention, covering down from the person in front of them. Maybe that was why Laura was so inattentive. She couldn't see Mr. Deleyney's face and was therefore understandably distracted from his speech. Laura knew this was a lie she was trying to make herself believe, but it was better than admitting to herself she was actually drooling over ice cream.

It was The Knight's last day of camp. The last few days had gone by in the blink of an eye, it seemed, and Laura found it more than a little hard to believe she would soon be packing her suitcase and having one last night with "the boys" in their room. The university that had put the corps up for the camp would be happy to know the dorm rooms the corps nearly destroyed with all their energy, the mess hall that had been used as both a meal hall and practice room was clean, and the football fields that had been stomped on thousands of times by hundreds of feet were really no worse for wear. If you didn't count the spots where guard equipment had dug into the ground and feet had slipped, that was... The university's director, Laura hadn't caught his name, was in the bleachers with several people who looked to be friends and family, listening to Mr. Deleyney speak. He had been promised a show and, being that this was The Knights last night to run a dress rehearsal, a show the man would get.

Her uniform was not comfortable in the heat of the sun as morning had made it's way to afternoon. This morning, after being reminded by Jon what parts of the uniform needed to go on first, Laura had thrown on a plain white shirt that was baggy enough to avoid any unnecessary attention to her chest and the spandex shorts all the boys wore under their uniform pants. Pinning her hair back took a good fifteen minutes; Laura was going to have to remember to start pinning earlier than she thought she needed to from now on. Spraying her hair heavily with hairspray to keep it back in a fashion where it would look like a boy's hair cut while she wore her hat, Laura finally put on her uniform. She had always liked uniforms, especially the jackets. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror in all her Knight glory, Laura put her hat on and walked into the dorm room only to find Jon was still there and not only was he half way dressed, he asked her if her spandex fit well.

That thought drove all other thoughts, including those of ice cream and drooling in front of Beau, out of her mind and Laura found herself coming down with what she knew was going to be a good case of the giggles. Jon hadn't even blushed as she walked in on him from out of the bathroom, even waving her goodbye as she went out the door with a flush of pink on her cheeks, not answering his question. That was what made it all so funny and Laura, as hard as she tried, couldn't keep the laughter back. Mr. Deleyney concluded his speech just in time, because the clapping of the instructors as he stepped off Jake's podium in front of the field masked the snort of giggles as Laura crunched into her own shoulders and bowed her head. Talk about timing.

As Mr. Deleyney made his way up to the press box and Beau and Paul got off the field, Laura went to her first set position and waited patiently until she heard the click of the microphone being turned on. Up in the press box were Courtney, Trygve, Mr. Hamon, and several other people Laura had never seen before. This wasn't the first time they had run through the entire show, but it was the first time in uniform and Laura felt the giggles being pummeled away by the nervous pounding of her heart in her throat. The shine of her trumpet nearly blinded her and she bowed her head a little more so the brim of her hat kept the glare away from her eyes. Around her, she heard everyone settle into their first position and, as if from far, far away, the faint footsteps of Jake and Thomas as they stepped onto their podiums.

Laura started to think about ice cream once more.

* * *

Finally, after the show and a lot of scattered applause from the few university officials and their family and friends, The Knights got into their proper formation and left the field in a straight line, right past the food truck where all the volunteers clapped and applauded, also. As soon as the corps reached the uniform trailer in a parking lot right next to where The Knight's uniform and souvenir trailers were resting, ready to roll by nightfall, Thomas stopped the corps with a few short commands on his whistle.

"Good job, Knights," he said, hardly audible through the shuffles and mutterings among the members. "You did well, but- Excuse me."

The fact the drum major stopped talking and looked pointedly around at the members surrounding him should have been enough of a warning to be quiet, but no one cared. Thomas snapped them all back to attention and made them wait there until Mr. Hamon, escorted on either side by Jake and Mr. Deleyney, arrived to make comments on their show.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Deleyney asked, a light frown on his face.

"It seems we need a little more order in the ranks, especially when they are receiving comments and orders by their drum majors and instructors," Thomas replied, face stony cold as he crossed his arms and planted his feet as he always did.

"It's their last day," the music instructor replied, "They deserve a break. Don't you agree, Peter? Mr. Hamon?"

The marching instructor ignored both Mr. Deleyney and Thomas as he watched Courtney and Trygve walk up to the corps, Courtney licking an ice cream cone. This was distracting not only to Mr. Hamon but most of the male corps members and, realizing all the attention she was getting, Courtney passed her cone nonchalantly off to Trygve, who looked very displeased.

"Ahem," Thomas cleared his throat, several corps members looking forward instead of at their female instructor.

"That's better," the drum major muttered.

"Your performance went well," Mr. Hamon said, regaining some sense of self and still doing a very good job at ignoring Mr. Deleyney, who looked as if he would like to smack Mr. Hamon in the side of the head with his clipboard. "I don't think we're ready for tomorrow night. We're never going to get an award if you're so easily distracted by things. I can't have a corps I direct suddenly go walking off in the wrong direction because they noticed a pretty girl and crash into something or someone. I can't have a corps that can't hear the music over the rumblings of their stomach. Keep that in mind. Tomorrow afternoon, we're going to arrive at our first show site. We will practice, which will not be open to the public, luckily for you, and everyone will be assigned jobs by tomorrow morning. Depending on what crew you're on, you will have different responsibilities within the corps to make our tour successful. If we don't have a successful tour, I'll find out why and fix it, which most of you won't like. Got it?"

Several corps members nodded, breaking attention, for which Mr. Hamon gave out push ups. As the offenders dropped and did their punishment, those at attention stood straighter and hardly dared to breathe. Although not many corps members respected their drum majors, when Mr. Hamon talked, he meant business and no one dared treat their drill instructors with the lack of attention they gave Jake and Thomas. Not even Courtney tossing her hair and pulling it back into a sloppy bun could make the boys break attention, which was what Mr. Hamon was waiting for.

"Go enjoy your ice cream."

Half the corps members broke off in a run toward the food truck, instruments and all, while others started undressing as fast as they could and putting their uniforms on the proper hanger on the proper rack. This meant there were boys in boxers, spandex, and baggy shirts running around barefoot in a mad rush for ice cream. Mr. Hamon yelled over the noise that anyone caught eating in their uniform would give fifty push ups per bite of treat they took, which didn't stop very many boys. Laura, who was one of the few who had not undressed, looked around nervously. She wasn't about to take off her uniform pants and walk around in front of the whole world in just spandex and a light shirt. Although ice cream was tempting and, after drooling just thinking about it, Laura wanted a cone so badly, she decided to volunteer to push the uniform racks into the trailer and get ice cream later. But that still left her with the problem of changing so she could put her uniform away. With an exasperated sigh, Laura tried to find the solution to her problem, but couldn't come up with anything. If she went up to change, it would be too late to put her uniform in the truck and she would have to do push ups. Now it didn't even matter about the ice cream. And no one was going to break away from their ice cream bash to run up to her room and get her clothes.

"All the uniforms on the trailer?" she heard Mr. Deleyney call out, "We're going to start loading the buses in an hour, meaning the uniform and souvenir truck are going to leave to make room for the buses. Last call for uniforms."

Telling herself it wouldn't be so bad and remembering all the sporty girls in high school who almost seemed to pride themselves in the fact they walked around in spandex after their games, Laura put her uniform on the rack. Trying to avoid the fact she felt practically naked and vulnerable, Laura stood behind the uniform racks, waiting for a break in the crowd so she could make an unnoticed escape to her room.

"Laura?"

Jumping a mile, Laura turned around and nearly hit Jon with her trumpet before realizing who it was. Jon held two ice cream cones and offered Laura her pick. Blushing, Laura picked the mint chocolate chip cone and shuffled around, reminding herself Jon was a friend and wouldn't care she was wearing practically nothing.

"Why are you hiding all the way over here? I thought you would be making a dash with the rest of us to the food trailer. Are you feeling okay?"

"More than a little self conscious," Laura muttered, trying to pull the front of her shirt over the front of her spandex and then, realizing the back of the shirt had gone up, gave up and sighed. "I'm not used to being around so many boys wearing so little."

Jon, frowning in thought for a moment, realized what Laura meant and smiled.

"It's not funny," Laura snapped, snapping a corner of her spandex unhappily.

"I didn't say it was," Jon said, "Here, hold this. You can have a bite if you want."

Laura took the strawberry flavored ice cream cone from Jon and, after taking a look around, Jon quickly took off his shirt and offered it to Laura.

"Here, you can put this on in the uniform trailer and I'll make sure no one walks by. Give me your shirt so I'm at least wearing something; Mr. Deleyney gets mad if we walk around in just our shorts."

"Meaning he doesn't get mad if you're walking around in just shorts and a shirt, only if you're not wearing a shirt?" Laura asked sarcastically, giving the two cones to Jon and taking his shirt. "I mean, it's not much of a difference."

"I don't know how to rationalize it, but it's what I've heard from the other guys. Always wear a shirt with your shorts."

Jon laughed and shrugged as Laura, in under ten seconds, changed out of her shirt and into Jon's. It was wet with sweat and more uncomfortable than her own shirt, but was long enough that it came past her thighs, which was better than before, at least. Walking out of the trailer and resisting a laugh at the sight of Jon nodding and smiling to a corps member walking by and giving him an odd look for the fact he was standing shirtless in front of the uniform trailer with two ice cream cones in hand, Laura took her cone back and gave him her shirt.

"I don't think you're going to fit into that."

"Me, neither. Next time we have to get into uniform, ask Mr. Hamon what you should wear, because from what I understand, we pretty much live in shorts and shirts."

"Well, I know the guys wear swim trunks and plain boxers and long shorts during practice, I've been here all of spring practice," Laura said, stating the obvious, "But I heard we were only supposed to wear tight fitting shorts under the pants so no one can see the wrinkles through the fabric."

"True... Hum... Maybe you can wear your longer bed shirts and get yourself some different tight pants, not so revealing. Don't buy anything before you talk to Mr. Hamon, though. He'll know what to do."

"That is going to be an awkward conversation," Laura said, walking with Jon away from the trailer and toward the dormitories, which were on the other side of the parking lot past the food trailer. "It's going to be all, like, 'Hi, Mr. Hamon. I'm not comfortable walking around in spandex in front of boys' and he's going to say, 'Get used to it, you're in an all male corps.' I can just imagine."

"Just because you're with the guys doesn't mean you have to dress like us. Oh, wait, well, you do... Um, are the volunteers supposed to know you're a girl?"

The man who had caught Laura's eye while she had been gazing longingly at the ice cream during Mr. Deleyney's speech heard the last part of Jon's sentence and, as his eyebrows flew up and he looked concerned and horrified, Laura couldn't help but smile.

Being a girl in an all male drum corps certainly made for interesting situations.

* * *

After reaching their room, Laura grabbed a fresh baggy shirt from her shelf and changed out of Jon's shirt, relieved to have the sticky, sweaty thing off her. Taking off her spandex with a sigh and resisting the urge to cut them up into little bits, she put on a pair of lounge pants and settled down on her bed to start her packing.

Taking things back off her headboard shelf and putting all her personal items in plastic baggies, zipping everything tight before stashing them away, Laura sat in near silence with Jon, only saying the occasional answer to the occasional question. The awkwardness had finally caught up with them of the situation Jon had saved Laura from and not only was he feeling rather odd about seeing Laura in practically nothing, even though she was a friend, Laura was contemplating what had just happened between them. There was a definite switch in their so far friendly relationship.

"I want to get this out of the way before Thomas comes in," Jon finally said, peering over the edge of his bunk down at Laura. "Did I make you uncomfortable at all, lending you my shirt and undressing in front of you and seeing you-"

"Yes. But it's my fault because I should have thought ahead that something like this might happen. I just have to get over the fact I have to wear tight clothing around guys. We'll be undressing at night, on a bus, anyway, right? It was just a one time accident," Laura said, a little too fast. Jon nodded.

"Would you rather have had Thomas do that for you instead of me? Saving you like that?"

Jon's question was followed by Thomas walking into the room, looking weary as he carried practically five pounds of music and drill sheets in his personal corps folder, which grew bigger by the week. As the drum major put the folder down on the floor and pulled out his suitcase from where it rested under the bed, Laura bowed her head and Jon resumed packing.

"Did I interrupt something?" Thomas asked, sensing the uncomfortable silence in the room. "I can leave for a few moments."

"No, it's okay. I'm just not feeling very well after all that ice cream," Jon said before Laura could speak. "Laura was just telling me how silly I was being."

"I wasn't," Laura said, trying to sound cheerful and failing, "I was going to say thank you, but-"

"It's okay," Jon interrupted, the silence after his short statement growing longer and longer until Thomas shook his head, getting up from his kneeling position on the floor. Without a word, the drum major went into the bathroom and locked the door, obvious he had left to give Laura and Jon a moment alone.

"This is stupid, really," Laura said, getting out from under Jon's bunk and looking up at him. "We've always been good friends without any of this tension going on. Now, my being a girl hasn't affected our friendship before and I don't want it to affect it now, not when we're going into our first season together! Yeah, I saw you take your shirt off like I've seen you do a hundred times before. And yeah, you saw me in practically nothing, like you've seem me do less than a hundred times before, but you know what I mean. But you were a true friend and came over not just with ice cream, but saved me from humiliation. That is great, Jon, and I'm lucky to have a friend like you."

"But you seemed so..." Jon said, trying to find the right word, "Ungrateful. Like you didn't want me there."

"I didn't want to be in that situation but, since I was, I couldn't think of anyone else I would rather have come save me," Laura said, dropping her voice to a whisper as she finished. "Every time Thomas tries to save me, things go from bad to worse later on. I'm sorry for being so rude."

Jon smiled and high fived Laura, which didn't dispel the awkwardness but still brought a smile to their faces.

"You're right, we've been friends for months and this hasn't bothered us this before. The tension just can't get to us. It's not right."

"I agree," Laura sighed, smiling as she went back to her packing. "I like the fact my best friend is a guy, even though I can't talk with you about nail polish or hairspray or cute guys."

"That last part had better have been a joke," Jon laughed. "You can talk to me about all that stuff. I'm just not sure how into those conversations I would be or how much advice or help I could give!"

* * *

Laura loaded Bus One with Jon, stuffing their suitcases along with Chris's suitcase in the bus carriage before going to their seats. Chris had called Mr. Hamon and asked if Laura and Jon could pack up his things and put them on the bus for him; he was going to go to the first show site with his parents so they could see him perform for the first time out of the hospital. Because Chris was gone, Laura and Jon sat together and, after listening to Mr. Hamon, their bus supervisor for the rest of the tour, speak about the bus rules one last time and announcing there would be no rest stops along the way to the show site, settled into their seats.

A few rows ahead of her Laura could see Thomas, who was flipping through the huge book of drill and music with Jake. His hair was nearly white in the light coming from the streetlights as the bus lurched ahead and drove out of the parking lot and she swore she could see his bright blue eyes reflected in the book's page protectors. Her mind went guiltily to the small box with the necklace he had given her tucked away in a secret compartment of her suitcase. Laura didn't know why she had brought it, it just seemed like the thing to do at the time, but now she wished it was in her carry on bag so she could wear it for the first time since their fight so many weeks ago. Thomas. The name still hurt her.

"You okay?" Jon asked, already falling asleep, chin resting on his shoulder closest to the window.

"Yeah," Laura said, settling into her seat and drawing her blanket up around her neck. "Just thinking. Just thinking."

* * *

_There you are! I hope this chapter was well worth waiting for. I know it was really Jon/Laura heavy with less other character interaction, but they need a good moment or two together! They're best friends. That and, please don't kill me for saying this, I wanted to get away from Thomas for a while. It's part of the reason I haven't updated in a long time: that character is just getting to me lately. Don't worry, we'll be hearing plenty more from him and Laura is going to have a few awesome chapters worth reading when Thomas comes in full swing again. Fun, fun, fun... Thank you very much for reading and, if you could, leave me a review telling me what you think. I think this is a bit of a departure from what and how I usually write, but I want your opinion! Hope you're all doing well and thanks for reading/reviewing!_


	55. First Show

_"Hearts Of Glass" has officially been out for a year. More than a year actually because I missed the anniversary date, but here is a chapter for you to enjoy! I won't babble as much as I usually do because I've already been cruel enough in not updating for a month. _

* * *

"Off the bus!"

Laura woke up to Mr. Hamon's voice, thin but still forceful, rousing the rest of Bus One. Not believing they were even possibly at the show site, especially this early in the morning, she cuddled closer into her blanket and ducked her head under the warm felt that was covered in stars and dots. Beside her, Jon stirred and his arm, as he stretched, pulled a part of the blanket off her head, ruffling her hair that had attempted escape from it's pony tail halfway through the night. With a sigh, Laura gave up her feeble effort for more sleep and yawned, resisting a smile as Jon yawned, also.

"G'morning," Jon said, taking his blanket and roughly folding it into something that resembled a square. "Time already? Seems like we just fell asleep."

"You're telling me," Laura said, nodding and following suit in folding her blanket, "And good morning to you, too."

Around them, corps members were pulling sneakers out from under seats, rummaging through overhead compartments, and following Mr. Hamon's command. Jon looked at Laura after looking around the rest of the bus and shrugged, ducking his head briefly down to look under his seat for any items he might need. Laura pulled on shoes and grabbed a brush to attack the monster that was her hair. Although some corps members, mostly those veterans from previous seasons, were off the bus in a matter of moments after being woken, Bus One still had most of it's passengers after five minutes had gone by.

"Knights, get a move on," Jake ordered, stepping back onto the bus with a frown on his face, the sort of thing one expected from Thomas but not good natured Jake. Seeing this sudden seriousness, Laura finished changing into a different shirt (Jon so thoughtfully moving into the now empty row of seats in front of them) and waited for Jon to finish using her brush before dashing off the bus, her section leader at her heels.

The Knights had gathered where the food stand was just starting to open, the smell of something that might have been waffles drifting on the cool June air, parents and other helpers busy fixing breakfast. There were no tables set up of any sort, nor chairs, and as Laura watched, Mr. Deleyney was turning people away from the busses.

"No breakfast on the bus," the music instructor told one of Laura's section, who was holding a plate loaded with something covered in fruit. "Find somewhere to sit."

Older boys Laura recognized from the percussion section, those who caused her grief during the fall and winter practices, had found a row of old benches along a chainlink fence that seperated the parking lot from the practice field. It seemed everyone was forced to sit on the grass or pavement, small circles of friends and sections scattered across the grounds. Not only had the percussionists stretched their feet out so no one else could use the space besides themselves, they were being too loud for this early in the morning, which Laura estimated to be nearly six o'clock. The sun was just rising and the setting was actually very comfortable as Laura and Jon stood in line for their breakfast, although they both knew it wouldn't last long. Soon, it would become hot and they would be working very hard, preparing for their first true drum corps show.

* * *

They were all too right by the time it came to break for lunch.

Laura, dripping in sweat, was thankful for the fact Jon hadn't taken his shirt off along with seemingly everyone else in the corps. Even Trygve, high in the stands with Courtney and Beau, had stripped down, causing Laura to miss a note in surprise. The sun, pretending to be so docile and kind in the morning during their breakfast, was now pounding upon The Knights during their lunch. Getting an odd look from the helper giving her a turkey sandwich, Laura grabbed a bottle of water from the large bucket of ice that chilled the drinks and made her way to the shade. Deciding to push her luck, Laura found a spot on one of the benches the percussion had occupied that morning, wondering if the section was going to be coming back to claim their 'territory.' Hearing rimshots and paradiddles with such expertise that could only come from Beau from behind one of the busses, Laura deduced he was holding the section for a few extra minutes of practice before letting them go for lunch. Imagining those boys with the terrible attitudes having to stand at attention and listen to Beau while the turkey sandwiches were so close, the water so cold, the shade so inviting... Laura nearly smiled.

"What's so funny?" Jon asked, followed by several of the trumpets that were kinder to Laura than most. As they sat down and dug into their sandwiches, Laura told them and they smirked as, within moments of Laura's last word, the percussionists came from around the corner of Bus Three, all shirtless and burnt. They had forgotten to put on sunblock, like almost all of the corps had, and were already getting lines from their harnesses. Their dropped jaws and dirty looks were ignored by most of the trumpet section, but some of the brass players had smirked back.

"You know this means war, right?" Jon asked, the rest of the trumpet section joining who was already there on the benches, euphoniums sitting in the rest of the shade surrounding them, making just as many faces at the percussion as the percussion was making at them.

"War?" stated Laura nervously, "I don't think my trumpet could contend with one of their drumsticks if it came down to it." The joke was well appreciated as Laura continued, "Plus, it's just shade! I mean, we can take turns sharing it."

"First, Laura," said a familiar voice, "You were smiling when you took their shade, so you can't tell me you didn't have evil intents. Second, you're with guys here: we're looking for any excuse to have a rumble. Third, I'll take care of all those nasty drumsticks for you as long as you destroy their-"

But Chris never finished because Laura and Jon, along with several other section members who knew him well, smothered him.

"You're back!" Jon cried, clapping him on the back, "Here we thought the hospital had kept you for good!"

"No, they let me go two days after my appendix was taken out and then I spent the rest of the time with my folks at home," Chris said, prying Laura's arms off his shoulders with a smile, "Then we packed up the car and made the drive here. We practically followed the busses."

"If you were so close," a boy Laura thought was called Roger, "Why did it take you until lunch to get here?"

"Well, um..."

"You skipped out, man!"

"We were having some family time, okay? Come on, Roger, like you wouldn't have! We had a good breakfast in town."

"That was the longest breakfast-"

"Come on, Roger, give the guy a break!" Jon interuppted, sensing a fight. Laura recognized Roger as part of the trumpet section that had never given Laura a break, either, and was thankful when he listened to Jon and went back to the remains of his sandwich.

"I kind of had to convince my parents to let me come back," Chris admitted to Jon and Laura as they walked to dump off their empty plates. "They weren't really thrilled when I wanted to come back and I had a hell of a time trying to get them to end breakfast. I mean, there are only so many cups of coffee a person can drink."

"You're going to be okay, though, right? I mean, good to march," Jon asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

"Oh, yeah. I've already talked with Mr. Deleyney and Hamon and they're fine with putting me in for tomorrow night's show."

"You're not marching tonight?" Laura and Jon asked together, which would have been funny if it were not for the serious subject.

"Naw, I missed over three days of practice and I'm not in shape," Chris shrugged, trying to sound offhand when it was obvious it was tearing him up. "Tomorrow I'm going to be back on the practice schedule and I'm going to have to work harder than ever to show Hamon I'm able to do this."

"Hamon didn't want to let you march?"

"Sorry if I sound rude, Laura, I don't want to be nasty or anything, but I don't want to talk about it anymore. It's been a rough week and I'm still sore to boot. I better go find my parents and see what their plans are."

Chris walked off, a little stiff, and left Laura and Jon standing together alone by the trashcan, which was gathering a growing swarm of bees.

"I feel so bad for Chris," Laura said sadly, causing Jon to shake his head.

"Don't pity him, Laura," he said, patting Laura's shoulder. "He would hate to know you did. The best thing to do is probably stay away from asking him too many questions and just be there if he needs us."

Even though she was annoyed at Jon's preaching, she knew he was right and smiled back in spite of her attitude. The sun was growing hotter and her grey cotton shirt was sticking uncomfortably to her back. The percussionists were shooting her and the rest of the the trumpet and euphonium sections dirty looks still, even though lunch break was nearly over, and even though Chris was back, he wasn't his old self yet.

And they still had a show that night.

* * *

Laura's first thought, as she stood in her uniform, trumpet in hand, watching other corps gathering in their own seperate groups, was of her old marching band.

Before it had fallen apart, while she was working herself up the ranks from flute player to drum major, Laura remembered watching other marching bands get off their busses, get dressed, warm up, and take the field or the street in whatever competition they were performing in. The akward looks, the smiles that hid fangs, the smiles that were genuine, and the general interest in the other performers overshadowed by the concern for one's own group. Take that and throw in tons of fans who were currently walking through the parking lot admiring their favorite corps and Laura knew this was what she was meant to be doing.

The drumline was practicing cadences and showing off to The Knight's fans behind the busses, most of the crowd young girls who showed more interest in their favorite percussionist than the actual drumming. The souvineer stand had been taken to the entry gates over an hour before the gates opened and, although Laura couldn't see it from where the corps was stationed, she bet it was already doing hundreds of dollars of transactions already. She was thankful that the public hadn't been allowed in for the practice because, seeing the amount of people just walking around the parking lots and filtering in through the gates, she wouldn't have been able to concentrate.

Thomas, who had been the first Knight ready to go in his uniform, was standing a little way off from the crowd, talking with the instructors and Jake. Girls who were braver and less keen to listen to the rule of staying away from certian areas of the parking lot that were for corps members only were sneaking around, already drooling over Thomas. Laura, after watching these girls for several moments and debating what to do, was joined by Jon, who saw the problem.

"Go over there and tell them to leave. I bet the moment you even walk up there, they'll turn scared and run. They know they're not supposed to be back here," Jon said, holding his hat under his arm, trumpet in the other hand. "Your hair is up and everything, so you pass for a guy."

"What makes you think I'm upset about them being back here," Laura said, "They know they're not supposed to and, sooner or later, Hamon is going to see they have company."

"They haven't been noticing anything, Laura, and you know it. Besides, you don't mind the way they're looking at our drum majors?"

Without a word, Laura handed her trumpet to Jon and strode over to the girls in what she hoped was manly. The three girls, all victims of too much makeup and hairspray, wearing clothes at least two sizes too small and toting handbags the size of carry-on luggage, saw Laura coming and their eyes got big.

"I'm going to ask--"

Laura didn't have to finish her sentence because the girls, knowing they had been caught, started to walk away, giggling. As they passed Jon on their way back out of the corps-only area, Laura saw Jon smile. Making sure the majors and instructors hadn't noticed her or the girls, she went back to Jon, taking her trumpet from his hands.

"So, you thought they were pretty cute then?"

"Why would you think that?" Jon asked in reply, putting on his hat, smile plastered on his face.

"Because of that dorky grin on your face! Honestly, they weren't even that pretty. Let me guess," Laura continued, shaking her head, "They thought you were cute!"

"No," Jon said, trying to keep from laughing, "They thought you were."

Staring at Laura, he pushed her chin back up to close her mouth just as Thomas blew his whistle and Jake gestured for everyone to gather around. Quicker than the command to get off the bus that morning, corps members gathered in their sections behind their section leaders, older members telling the new members what to do according to tradition. Laura took her place right behind Jon and waited for Mr. Deleyney, who had stepped on top of a box, to address the group.

"Knights," Tyler said, speaking as if he was in a sacred hall instead of a large parking lot, "This is your first competition, our first chance to show the drum corps world we've bounced back from our loss last year, that we've overcome our issues to bring them a great show. You should all be so proud of yourselves."

The corps muttered among themselves before Mr. Hamon stepped onto the box, Mr. Deleyney stepping down and standing next to Paul and his guard. After several long moments of tense silence, their marching director said, in a voice full of emotion Laura had never known Mr. Hamon to have:

"Here we go, Knights. This is what we've suffered for, hoped for, worked for. This is our first show as a new corps."

Laura felt eyes on her, but never looked away from Mr. Hamon, who stood as if someone had sculpted him there on the plastic hat box in the parking lot. The field lights were bright as the sun was setting behind the bleachers, the sky a dusty purple and the stars coming out from behind distant clouds. She could hear the crowd cheering, the announcer introducing another corps, and felt pride swell in her heart. Reaching for Jon's hand, she quickly found it and wrapped her fingers around his. As if Jake knew what moment was right, he gave the command to line up and, in a sudden burst of noise, the entire corps erupted into applause and shouting and several members started singing a song about The Knights that Laura didn't know. Letting go of Jon's hand so they could get into formation to march out of the parking lot and into position to wait for their turn to perform, Laura snapped to attention.

"Here we go."

* * *

_There we are! Leave me a comment if you would like and I thank everyone who has commented and favorite-ed lately whom I haven't gotten back to. I feel terrible for not thanking you all personally, but I'm doing my best! Summer is a busy time and I have my last ever parade as a drum major this weekend, so I've been an emotional wreck (joking) (sort of). Hope you're all doing well and you enjoyed this chapter. The end of Hearts of Glass is approaching, but I already announced some time back there was going to be a sequel, so don't worry too much. Happy Reading!_


	56. Very Unusual Moments

_Hello, everyone! I'm not too fond of this chapter (I personally think it's a little rough and, in the second draft, I'm taking out the food scene in the second half of the chapter), but I did spend some time working on it and having fun. I hope all of you are having a great last month of summer before we all head back to school (ugh, college chaos; part of the reason I wrote this chapter: to escape the mess!) Hope you enjoy the chapter and I would be very flattered if I even got a review or two! Thanks for all the kind and helpful comments so far! Onward!_

* * *

Laura felt her chest constrict as she marched onto the field, the grass slightly rough under her feet from the previous corps' intense movements during their performance. The crowd was loud, but not as powerful and excited as she had first thought in the parking lot; they were interested for sure, but they were also apprehensive. Everyone in the drum corps world had heard about The Knight's financial problems and it was a popular bet on whether or not they would even march this season. Laura had heard many rumors about the organization and their check ups on the corps; so far, they hadn't found out about the director's little secret: her.

"And now, on the field, coming back from a third place ranking in last year's finals, The Knights Drum and Bugle Corps!" the announcer boomed through the speakers, the press box high above the grand stand bleachers facing the fields. As the announcer talked, the boys and Laura took their positions on the field.

"The Knights have overcome many struggles this past season, putting their winter guard unit on hiatus and extending practices, as well as gaining a more than a few new members. Rumor has it that The Knight's Head Director, Mr. Tyler Deleyney, has been considering private donations from a multitude of companies, each with their own list of rules and requirements to add to The Knight's Rulebook. If Deleyney has taken any of these offerings into consideration, no one knows what the future of The Knights will come to. A true drum corps instructor would handle the pressure of losing their corps under a little more grace, one would think, instead of pushing The Knights into a season they can't handle."

As Laura stood at attention, Jake and Thomas walking across the field to their podiums, she heard the crowd of Knight's loyal fans boo and heckle the announcer, who's tone was certiantly not the most respectful while talking about Mr. Deleyney. It was implied he was about to ruin the corps through bad choices that could possibly affect the entire drum corps organization. And who could have less grace under pressure than Mr. Deleyney? Laura felt the entire corps tense at the announcer's words and the crowds response. She was even more determined to perform her best, not just for the crowd and the corps, but for the director who had helped her through so much when Mr. Hamon, Matt, Andrew, and so many problems had made her doubt herself. Mr. Deleyney didn't deserve to be treated like drum corps trash.

After hearing The Knight's fan's indignant yells, the announcer didn't speak until Thomas and Jake made it to their podiums. The drum majors had not showed any sign of being upset at what was said about their music director, but Laura knew them better than to not care. She bet Jake was fuming and even Thomas was upset, but they were too good to show their frustration. Instead, they stood at the bottom of their podiums, facing the crowd and waiting for those words every drum corps member and fan love:

"Drum majors, is your corps ready?"

Still facing the crowd, Jake and Thomas got down on one knee so skillfully the fabric of their pants hardly touched the grass and, after crossing their arms in front of them and then putting their left hand in a fist over their heart, the drum majors stood back up and bowed their heads. Once Jake got to the top of his podium, he took off his hat and set it at the corner of his stand, flat and out of the way so he wouldn't accidentally step on it. Thomas waited until the head drum major had finished this before doing the same. The purple and white plumes blew softly in a slight breeze from their spot on the podiums and, as the crowd went wild for the drum majors, girls yelling in their high voices in the stands, Laura was briefly reminded of the night she had seen The Knights perform, watching Thomas from her seat and holding her breath. Her heart pounded hard and her breathing was too fast; being careful not to panic, Laura focused on the drum majors and brought her trumpet to her lips as they raised their arms.

* * *

As soon as they had marched off the field to thunderous applause and were well out of the view of the public eye, the corps started smiling. They couldn't break attention, not until they had circled up and listened to the directors and drum majors and were dismissed, but they could at least smile. Laura grinned from ear to ear when Jon, risking being caught, turned his head and winked at Laura; his excitement at finishing his first drum corps show matched and possibly even surpassed hers. The corps came to a halt after Thomas gave a whistle command, Paul and Mr. Hamon making their way to the middle of the circle through the many lines of musicians, the sturdy hat box on which to balance upon under Mr. Hamon's arm.

Setting it down, the marching instructor gave a satisfied look at the members of the corps, standing next to Paul, who looked exhausted but pleased. Mr. Deleyney, flanked by his drum majors, approached the circle and even Thomas couldn't find anything wrong with breaking attention to clap and cheer for the music director. Tyler looked uncomfortable, but gracious as he stepped on top of the box and looked around at his corps. After a few moments, when the cheering died down, Mr. Deleyney asked for them to stand at rest and, when everyone had set their instruments down or positioned them comfortably in their hands, the music director had everyone's undivided attention.

"You all heard what the announcer had to say, but let me tell you he is one of the best commentators in the drum corps circuit and is popular because he tells it how he sees it. And although I don't approve of most of what he said, you must admit it was twisted truth," Mr. Deleyney said, the corps knowing better than to mumble and disagree, but not wanting to let their director admit the announcer was right. "Because we didn't have enough organization or resources after Robert's death to fundraise, we missed our opprotunities for grants and other financial resources. We are making some serious mistakes now, too, in doing what we are doing."

At this, Laura caught her breath; she was a mistake? Well, it's not like she hadn't thought it to herself or heard it muttered by other corps members. She wouldn't have been there if it was not for the simple fact The Knights needed a female member to get the money to fund their season. But, even though she knew and was tempted to accept all this, it still hurt.

"No, Lee, I don't mean you are a serious mistake," Mr. Deleyney said, looking directly at Laura and using her "boy name" in case anyone from outside the corps was overhearing his speech. "There are things I have agreed to and signed and done I wish I never had to, but I did it to better The Knights and keep us going."

The corps was horrified at these words and there was an unsettling silence following what their instructor just said. Even Mr. Hamon and Paul looked surprised. The marching instructor fixed a very calculating grimace on his face and his eyes never left the man on the hat box, who now was starting to choke up.

"You all did a brilliant job tonight; I can't tell you how proud I am. Have a good night, corps."

Mr. Deleyney walked out of the circle and headed toward the buses, leaving a very confused corps behind. Usually it was Mr. Hamon that did the confusing, disturbing, mind boggling things Mr. Deleyney just did. Their music instructor had always been the strong one, the director who, with his quiet, understanding, knowledgable nature, held The Knights together. This odd speech left everyone confused and worrying about Mr. Deleyney, Mr. Hamon stepping onto the hat box and dismissing The Knights.

"At my command, get your uniforms to the trailer, get dressed in plain clothes, and get on the buses. We'll be making a stop at a fast food joint and then heading for our next show site. Fall out."

As the corps dispursed and the remaining instructors along with the drum majors walked off in the direction of the buses where Mr. Deleyney was last seen, Jon and Laura hugged. It was a rather subdued celebration, but The Knights celebrated nonetheless. While taking off her uniform and hanging it on it's rack in one of the trailers, making sure her extra long shirt was pulled over her spandex shorts, Laura looked around for Thomas, but he was was no where to be seen.

"He went with the directors to one of the busses," Jon said, knowing who Laura was looking for. "He never changes out here, apparently."

"What?" Laura asked, not understanding for a moment what Jon was saying. "Why?"

"I heard a few people talking about it a few days ago, about why Thomas is so stand-offish. He doesn't ever change out of his uniform in front of the rest of the corps. Jake does, every other drum major before Thomas did, from what I hear, but he prefers to get undressed and settled in on the bus while the rest of us are out here."

"I wonder why that could be," Laura muttered, trying to think of any reason why Thomas would do such a thing. It probably wasn't just because he was unsocial. For the directors to let him do such a thing would warrent that he either had a problem he didn't want anyone to know about or-

The scars from when Thomas was attacked by Matt and Andrew, after he had become drum major for the first time. She remembered hearing the story and felt terrible that she hadn't thought of it for all this time. Poor Thomas. He didn't want anyone to see his scars when he had to undress. But, why then would he have taken off his shirt during spring training? Hadn't anyone noticed the scars? Surely, if they were so bad he had to undress somewhere else so his corps wouldn't see them, he wouldn't have taken off his shirt? How confusing.

Laura put the matter out of her head as best as she could and waited with the rest of the boys to get onto their buses. The drivers were very particular on when the corps members could board their respective buses and Laura was unhappy when, as she boarded the bus almost last, waiting for Jon to finish putting his uniform away to come join her, she couldn't tell if Thomas had been on the bus the entire time or not. He was sitting in his usual seat near the front, Jake next to him, both pouring over the large book of drill, music, and performance notes Thomas had. Thomas was in the old grey shirt he had worn for bed when they had bunked for spring training, the faded purple Knights insignia on the front. His blond hair was slightly messy, as though he had not had time to brush it after changing in a hurry, and his eyes, although framed by circles of exhaustion, were a brilliant blue at the moment. Jake, getting a signal from the bus driver, stood up and pulled out a page of paper with writing on it, addressing the corps to sit down and listen up. Laura and Jon, along with the rest of the members who had not taken their seat yet, obeyed their drum major's commands and found their spots.

"Okay, just want to go over the rules for eating out, just in case you haven't checked the Rulebook lately. This is mostly for you new Knights, but everyone needs a refresher," Jake said, a smile on his face. If Thomas had been saying these same words, he would have gotten glares and grimmaces, but since it was Jake, it seemed to be a fun yet respectful statement. Laura thought about this as, quietly, she pulled a pair of sweatpants out of her bag under the seat and listened to the head drum major.

"Since we're in the public eye, although not in uniform, you still represent The Knights. As a Knight, you have responsiblity to respect yourself and others by preventing and avoiding such issues as...," Jake read off the sheet, listing inappropriate actions and their consequences, none of which the corps members really seemed interested in. After he finished the sheet, Jake smiled again and shrugged. "Gotta read it off, guys. Thanks for paying attention and following the rules."

"Yay, rules!" shouted an obnoxious trumpet player," which was rather funny and broke the tension that the boys and Laura had been carrying with them since Mr. Deleyney's speech about his mistakes. "Gotta love not being able to throw straws and gobble down six hamburgers at once!"

A few scratchy comments through the bus speakers later, the Knight's caravan rode out of the parking lot.

* * *

Laura stared out the window, hoping Jon came back soon. It had been almost a half an hour and she was starving. Sadly, she had no trail mix or other snacks hidden in her bag to tide her over until her hamburger, fries, and soda arrived via Jon-Delivery, so her only choice was to plug into her music and wait. Listening to one of her favorite "night time" songs, Laura watched the mob of Knights and the poor individuals and other groups who had picked the wrong night to eat at the hamburger joint. She wondered what those workers at the register were thinking, as well as the cooks preparing all the food: over a hundred hungry boys all ordering three hamburgers apiece as well as fries, desserts, and drinks. Now she wasn't hoping so much for Jon to come back soon as for Jon to come back in one piece.

Paul, the guard instructor, had come to talk with Bus One's driver about Laura staying on the bus. She had been all for joining the chaos inside, order ready, but he had caught her and brought her back to the bus.

"Since we are out in the public eye," he explained carefully, trying to sound friendly and comforting, yet coming across as very worried and stressed, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to go in there."

"Why not?"

"Well, let us just say if someone were to see through your disguise or accidentally run into you or if you even let your guard down for a moment," Paul said, talking over Laura as she tried to object,"Everything could fall part. You work too hard to look like a boy on the field, which is brilliant by the way, but at close range, the boy disguise might not be as convincing."

Laura could see his point, but wasn't exactly thrilled.

"So, I can't go eat?"

"No, I'm going to talk with the driver and he's going to let you stay on the bus and eat in there with whoever brings you your food. Do you have someone who would be willing-"

"Jon would, my section leader," Laura said, adding in the last part as to sound unattached. She bet Paul didn't know she and Jon were best friends and trying to explain they were only friends and yet so close would be difficult. It was apparently a big thing in the boy world, as far as she knew, for guys to get each other food willingly. Or maybe not such a big thing after all, because Paul just smiled and said that would work. Laura wasn't even allowed to go and find Jon, who had been part of the starving mass who had bolted off the buses and fled into the building for the promised food stop. Paul did for her, which was embarrassing because she also had to tell him what she wanted. Maybe it was just in her head, but weren't guard members not supposed to eat fattening, unhealthy food? And as guard instructor, wouldn't he pass judgement on her? Although he was a nice guy, Laura had a tough time breaking down the wall of stereotypes she saw in guard members and their instructors.

Now she had to deal with having only herself and the grumpy driver on the bus, the driver who couldn't leave the bus because of Laura. Paul had apparently told him to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't get off the bus, meaning the driver had to have his food delivered to him, too. It was obviously not what the driver had in mind and, although Laura knew he wasn't supposed to know she was not a boy, she couldn't help but duck behind the seat in front of her and let down most of her hair from their bobby pins. During a break in the music, she could hear the driver's belly rumble.

The time on the bus gave Laura time to think, which was something she need to do, although she didn't exactly want to spend any more energy that night. Her muscles were feeling the effects of the performance even though she was in the best shape she had been in because of spring training. With all the hell they had put her through during that time, she wondered why she still had to get sore. Maybe there was something wrong? Naw, she just didn't warm up properly before marching; that was it. But Chris, with his appendix... What if something were wrong with her on tour? What if she got sick?

Pushing these horrible, unsettling, random thoughts out of her head, Laura admitted to herself that she was too tired to be thinking. Way too tired. All she was doing was scaring herself. But she admitted she was missing her home and her parents and everything she had before becoming a Knight. Her earphones hurting her head, Laura took them off and stashed them away in her bag under her seat. Pulling out her blanket with the stars and hearts and dots, along with a small pillow, she curled up over both seats and drifted off to sleep.

She was not asleep very long, however, before the chaos and noise of people coming back onto the bus woke her up. Along with the noise came the smell of greasy, salty food, which reminded Laura not only was she hungry, she had a friend who was going to bring her dinner. Sitting up groggily and wiping her lip, she spotted Jon out the window, part of the crowd of boys trying to get on the bus, a paper bag which contained her meal in one hand, a soda in the other. A simple hamburger shouldn't be enough to make her nearly cry in anticipation, but she was more hungry than she had felt in years.

But, there was a problem with her dinner...

"Hey, no food on the bus. You can't bring that on here."

"But, this is for the gir- the Knight who couldn't get off the bus to get he- his food," Jon tried to explain to the bus driver who, although he was trying to enforce the rule of no food on the bus, was eyeing the bag greedily. Jon, seeing this, clutched the bag closer and tried to make his way past the bus driver. The driver grabbed his arm and snatched the bag away, Jon putting up a fight.

"That is not yours!"

"No food on the bus."

"Why does it matter? We were allowed to bring snacks on here all the time on our way to spring training!"

"That was then, this is now. Besides, I had to stay on here and watch over Mr. Not-Feeling-Well and no one has brought me my food yet."

The driver dug the hamburger out of the bag and was about to unwrap it when Thomas, the only other person besides Jon and Laura who had seen this abomidable behavior from their driver, gave the bus driver a hard glare. It was then that Laura noticed he had a bag of food in his hand, too, a bag which the bus driver realized was supposed to be his. Trying to grin in a good natured way, the driver attempted to wrap the burger back up, but Thomas passed right by him and, in an act of chivalry, gave Laura the bag. She had pulled her hair back roughly so the driver, from his seat way in front, could not tell her hair was not as short as the other boy's and thanked Thomas. The drum major smiled lightly and went back to his seat. Jon, seeing Laura at least had food, grinned sarcastically and let go of the corner of the bag he had been clutching, walking to his seat. The driver shrugged, figuring he at least has something to eat, too, and went back to swallowing what was supposed to be Laura's meal.

"Sorry about that," Jon said, flopping down in his seat. "Hey, the seat is warm. You've been sleeping."

"Yup," Laura answered, feeling a little more awake than she had been before as a combination of the stress of seeing her beloved food stolen by a terrible bus driver man and the excitement of being able to eat whatever was in the bag Thomas had given her. It was much heavier and even looked heavier than the bag Jon had had for her and, upon opening this new meal, found not only everything she had wanted, but a chicken sandwich, extra fries, and a small pastry. Jon, who was still holding Laura's soda in one hand, handed it to her as she offered him the bag.

"Take anything you want," she said, digging into the hamburger and fries with determination. "Thanks so much!"

"It wasn't me, it was Thomas," Jon answered, taking the pastry without delay. "He really handled that well."

"And you didn't?" Laura asked sarcastically with a mouthful of food, abandoning any manners she might have had before. "You would have fought that driver for every bite he was trying to take!"

"Yeah, but Thomas handled it better. You ended up getting a good deal, too, with extra food to share," Jon said, maybe a little too loudly because those boys who had not had their fill looked around for who had the extra food. With the strong scent of burgers and fries on the bus, very few noticed there was still the fresh scent of food lurking somewhere for the snatching. Those who knew Laura had the food had also seen Thomas give her the bag and, although they didn't respect Thomas as much as they did Jake, he was still a drum major and they were not about to start something this late at night.

"Lights are going off and the bus is pulling out," Jake said after taking a head count and confirming the numbers with one of the instructors over the bus radios. Everyone was there and, as soon as the lights went out, people settled down, Jon and Laura happily munching on their food.

"Hope it's alright; I remember you said once you didn't like onions," Jon said, "I didn't order onions on your last burger."

"This one had them, but I was so hungry I didn't care," Laura answered, flattered by his thoughtfulness. "Thanks, though, for remembering I don't normally eat them. That's really nice. Would you like the chicken sandwich and fries? I should feel bad for eating the bus driver's food, considering he probably gave someone a lot more money to get this meal than what I gave you; we got a deal, really."

"You know who probably didn't get enough to eat?" Jon asked quietly.

"Who?"

"Thomas. He lent almost all the money he had on him to a few people who couldn't cover the cost of what they ordered. A few quarters here, a few quarters there, and he's out of money for himself."

"Didn't anyone share? That is really generous of him."

"He didn't have enough time to get money off the bus and get back to order his food, so he made do with a drink and the smallest order of fries I've ever seen."

Laura felt so guilty for eating her food so fast without a second thought that she felt like crying for the second time that night. Thomas gave up his chance at an actual meal by delivering the bus driver's meal to Laura, just so she could eat, too. Very chivalrous indeed; a lot of guys she knew wouldn't do that.

"Is there a way to get this to him?" Laura said, Jon nodding and taking the bag with the rest of the food and standing up from his seat. The moment he stood up, the driver, looking up into the mirror that let him see the rest of the bus passengers, called for him to sit down. Jon did so, blushing in the dark.

"Well, I guess I can't just walk right up there. I don't think we should trust the other boys to pass the bag up, either, because all Thomas will get is the bag and nothing else."

"Sorry, Jon, didn't mean to get you in trouble," Laura said, feeling like she was running out of time to come up with a plan. The rest of the bus was going to go to sleep soon and then, by morning, the food would be bad. "Hey, I have a plan. Would Thomas come back here if we made some noise?"

"One of the drum majors would, yeah, I suppose," Jon said, picking up on Laura's plan. "The question is do you want to risk even more of the corps members hating you for disturbing their rest?"

"Sure," Laura said without a second thought, "Those who are friendly will understand, those who aren't can't hate me any more than they already do, right? Let's try it."

Jon and Laura, unable to keep the smiles off their faces, started talking loudy and Laura turned up the volume on her speakers so a dull, annoying pulse of a song started to bother those around them. Sure enough, after hardly a minute, Jake walked back to their seats and quietly asked for the music to be turned off and the talking to stop.

"Sorry for doing this, Jake," Laura said, immediately turning off the music and whispering as she spoke, "But we sort of set it up so you can give this to Thomas."

Jake took the bag and, after taking a glance inside, grinned and muttered something about the other drum major's rumbling stomach keeping him awake.

"Should have known you two would only be making noise if there was a good reason," Jake said, nodding his head before going back to his seat, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," they replied, settling into their seats, pleased that only only did they not disturb as many people as they thought they would have to but that Thomas got his food."

"You don't like it that Thomas is hungry?" Laura asked Jon as she pulled her blanket back up to her chin. "I thought you weren't too fond of him."

"Yeah, but I don't want the guy to starve," Jon answered, shrugging as he got comfortable for the night. "Besides, I wouldn't hear the end of it if you weren't able to feed your drum major and I did nothing to help you. 'Night, Laura."

Laura wondered at this last statement; was Jon possibly jealous? Was it his chivalry or his old over protectiveness coming back? Whatever it was, it make Laura uncomfortable. Maybe she was still taking Jon for granted by having him help her take care of Thomas. Not that Thomas needed taking care of; Laura figured she had caught herself being too smothering and demanding again.

Oh, she still had so much to figure out.

* * *

_There it is! Hope you enjoyed it, had a few laughs, thought a little bit (especially about poor Mr. Deleyney; we haven't heard the end of this little problem yet!), and now will go outside and enjoy some nice weather! Thanks for reading and I'll update soon!_


	57. Brief Conversations

_Hello, everyone. I already apologized to most of you for being so late updating. College is a busy busy place and I was actually supposed to be doing homework instead of this, but figured that could wait at least for a little while. I will already apologize for the lack of whatever this chapter is lacking, too, because I was writing this when I was feeling less than well while unable to refer back to previous chapters. Anyway, I hope you are all doing well and enjoy!_

* * *

A week passed, then two, and before long Laura felt herself falling into the usual habits of The Knight's summer season. The routines were the same: drive long distances, sometimes sleep on gym floors or at host houses, wake up and practice for hours, breaking only for lunch and dinner, and then perform. After performing, get back on the bus and start the entire routine again. Not that it was boring, not by far. In fact Laura found herself coming more and more exhausted as time went on, the daily routine with all the small fun things thrown in wearing on her. Even the competition between the brass and percussion with who got the best spot in the shade during meals grew weary and tempers rose. A baritone and snare drummer nearly got into a fist fight at one lunch period, Laura and Jon looking on in frustration as Beau, Jake, Thomas, and Mr. Hamon pulled the boys off one another, the drummer throwing one last punch in before the fight officially ended. The brass player, now with a busted lip, was taken to one of the trailers where they had the medical supplies and the percussionist ran ten laps around the practice field after Beau's voice gave out from screaming.

"You're out of all the performances for this week," Beau was yelling at the boy as he started his sixth weary lap around the field. "Next week, too! If that ever happens again, I'm not even going to let you run, I'm sending you home!"

Laura sat a little closer to Jon despite the heat. Beau's yelling had always bothered her, his strange rumbling voice carrying across the entire parking lot. The rest of the corps who had seen the fight went back to their meals and the drum majors didn't even bother to give a speech on how that behavior was inappropriate for a Knight. They all knew, they just didn't care at the moment; except Thomas. The assistant drum major was livid when he had pulled the brass member off the snare drummer and looked like he was going to punch both of them for several seconds. His lunch ruined, Thomas had given the rest of his food away and sat beside one of the buses in a bit of shade.

"No one is acting like themselves," Laura said to Jon as they stood to toss their empty paper plates away and get another cup of water before making their way to the field for another long practice session. "It's like the summer is wearing on everyone. Is it always like this?"

"I don't know, it's my first summer with The Knights, too," Jon snapped before catching himself. "Laura, I'm sorry. I just don't want to talk right now. It's too hot. Maybe Chris would know?"

Laura walked away from Jon in as much of a huff as she could, knowing she was being nasty and not caring. The heat was definitely a factor in this attitude switch among the members of The Knights, and the fact Mr. Deleyney still hadn't told the corps what had caused his unusually moody, personal speech after their first show several weeks ago was also to blame; the rumors were varied and hardly anyone took them seriously, wanting the real story from their director and impatient that they hadn't gotten it yet. Not that The Knights were entitled to know, and they all knew it, but everyone, especially the senior members of the corps, felt betrayed their director wouldn't talk with them about it. Everyone was still fiercely loyal to their music instructor. Everyone, that was, except Andrew.

Andrew had been unusually docile the past few weeks, Laura had noticed, leaving her alone and even ignoring her completely. For that she was thankful, but couldn't help wondering if it was the heat or actual disinterest that had caused him to refrain from picking on her for so long. It was nice not having to worry about one extra thing, considering what else was going on in her life. She missed home, her parents, even playing her flute, although she had been content before to give that up for a summer to play trumpet. The fact she was a top performer with the corps on trumpet and could still play another musical instrument well was surprising to her; usually things in her musical life had been one or the other, not both. She had left the hat from her old marching band that had come in the box of old uniform parts the directors ordered during the winter season at home, also, and she had had a strange dream about that hat once the previous week, although she didn't remember much else of the dream or why the hat was involved. At least the corps itself had stopped blaming Laura for most of the bad luck the corps had been having since their first show of the season.

The Knights had taken a consistent fourth throughout the entire season, which was extremely depressing to the morale of the corps. If their final placing last season was enough to cause damage to the corps' esteem and drive them to extreme actions, fourth was definitely not good enough. At first Laura had been a target at which the corps directed their negative energy. If they had gotten a girl into the corps to help better the chances of getting first, why were they playing low consistently? Mr. Hamon had put a halt to the practice of glaring at Laura every time a corps member walked by, saying just because they had Laura didn't mean they would place first every show, that Laura was there not only because she was a member of the corps, just like them, but that because of her they received the money that sponsored them to go compete, not necessarily win.

"If winning championships only went by how much money you had, it wouldn't be drum corps," Mr. Hamon liked to say, "It would be politics."

Of course, the political majors of the corps started glaring at him instead of Laura.

As Laura walked by the trailer where the brass member was having his lip taken care of, she could hear Mr. Hamon swearing about how he was now useless as a player for that evening and probably the next show as well. The boy looked miserable and stood patiently for Chris' mother, who had signed up to be a volunteer for The Knights that summer shortly after Chris came back for the first show, to clean the blood off his chin while she dampened a cloth with salty water. If anyone would know where Chris was, it would be his mother, but Laura didn't necessarily feel like searching Chris out just to ask one simple question. It was too hot to go looking for someone when it wasn't absolutely important.

The buses looked inviting, but of course the drivers forbade anyone to go on them when they weren't there, not to mention it would only be hotter on there without the air conditioning on, but at least it would be a comfortable place to sit. Laura, making a daring move, looked for Thomas and found him leaning against one of the buses, shirt off and resting his head against the metal, cold from being in the shade all afternoon, untouched by the summer sun. Walking over, Laura sat down quietly next to him and rested her head against the bus, too. She knew he must have heard her, he had ear that could hear the slightest whisper at the back of a bus or at the other end of a field, but she took it as a good sign that he didn't tell her to go away or leave himself. She sat there for several moments, resisting the urge to fidget or speak until it became too much.

"Are you feeling okay?" Laura asked softly, not knowing what else to say, assuming he would say everything was fine, as usual. However, Thomas just sighed. It wasn't a sigh that he was annoyed with her or upset at being disturbed; it was a sigh meaning he wasn't his usual self. This surprised Laura and she tried to think of something else to say, but Thomas spoke before she could find words.

"I've never seen the corps like this," he said, raising his eyebrows without opening his eyes, face lifted toward the sky as the back of his blond head rubbed against the bus. "There are secrets, fights, lies, distrust, nearly everything going wrong."

"It isn't always like this?" Laura asked, pressing her cheek against the metal and looking carefully at Thomas, who shook his head. "Why do you think these things are happening?"

"I don't know. I've been in this corps for years and it was never like this. Granted," Thomas said, surprising Laura that he even wanted to go into elaborations, "There were still fights and secrets and lies, but it was different, if you know what I'm trying to say. It wasn't as bad, there weren't as many, there wasn't as much on the line. We fought and lied about different things if we even did any of those things at all. Now that I'm a drum major again and things just keep getting worse, I don't know what to do."

"Thomas, this isn't your fault," Laura said, knowing where he was going with this. Thomas shook his head again.

"No, this is. There's something I'm not doing, or something I am doing, that is making everything like this."

"Don't say that," Laura whispered, voice cracking.

"Why do you sound like that?" Thomas asked, opening one eye a tiny bit to look at Laura, who found herself getting choked up, although it was not only too hot to cry and waste even the slightest bit of salt and water she needed, but embarrassing as well to cry once more in front of someone she respected and cared for.

"You know how my band was abandoned, right, by my director?"

"I heard."

"I asked myself those same things, but I know it wasn't anything I did. I always knew, but I still asked those questions," Laura said, regaining control over her voice. "You're doing fine, Thomas."

They sat in silence for several moments and Laura, not knowing if she should have, moved over until she was shoulder to shoulder with her drum major. Thomas shifted slightly, but didn't move away, and they sat like that until Thomas, glancing at his watch, said it was time to go and practice, that Jake would be calling for them any minute.

"Thomas, can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Actually can I ask you two somethings?" Laura added as she followed Thomas to her feet and away from the buses.

"Just one something."

"Um... Okay. I want to ask why you sometimes don't wear a shirt outside for practice or warm ups but yet you go on the bus to change. Is it because of your scars?"

Thomas didn't reply for such a long time that Laura thought he wasn't going to answer at all, but he spoke right before they needed to part ways, her to go to the brass section and he to the director's podiums.

"I have a ritual I go through before every performance."

"What?"

"I pray. Not religiously, exactly, but for The Knights, for certain things to happen, for certain things not to happen, that sort of thing."

"But Jake does something like that, too," Laura said, frowning in confusedness. "He doesn't go on the bus."

"Jake and I are different people. Talk to you later, Laura."

With that, he walked away and left Laura alone in the middle of the parking lot, the brass section calling to her to hurry up and join them for sectionals, leaving her to wonder if he was telling the truth or not.

* * *

_Good ol' Thomas/Laura action... I'm coming to a close on the story, within the next 5-7 chapters, so I have to make a lot of choices to why, what, and how things are going to happen. I promise it will be all finished by Christmas. Thank you for reading and hopefully you'll leave me some sort of review! I'll try to update sooner next time. Happy Reading!_


	58. Time Continues

_Hello! It's been awhile! I know I said I wanted to get the story done by Christmas 2007, but it didn't happen (obviously). The story IS complete, it is just a matter of posting the rest of the chapters. I won't post them all at once though, because that would take some of the fun out of it. You've all been so patient and kind waiting for another chapter and I thank you so much for your dedication to and the love of the story! Here it is:_

The summer crept slowly on, hours making days, days creating weeks, and eventually it came down to the last three weeks of the summer season. Laura wasn't sure what she thought about the lack of time left with The Knights. Some nights, curled in her seat, leaning against Jon's arm as he snored into the window, listening to the faint sounds of music players and shifting bodies around her, Laura wondered how she could get through another season, especially in a corps where she was the only woman, in a place she isn't supposed to be under normal circumstances. Would they even let her march with The Knights next season? What if the directors found other funding and decided to cut the foundation giving the corps money, as well as cutting Laura? Would she be heartbroken or relieved? But it was those days, where the summer sun, growing in heat with every minute that passed by until early evening, where she was playing her trumpet, doing exercises, listening to Mr. Hamon bark at sections over the speakers of the host fields and stadiums they were practicing and performing on... those moments she loved so much she would be willing to go through hell and back to experience. That was why she kept marching and now she couldn't imagine life without The Knights.

Laura only realized there were three weeks left when she had heard Jake and Thomas talking with Mr. Deleyney after an excruciating practice where nearly five people had fainted, even after sufficient water breaks and resting in whatever shade available whenever possible. After hearing Mr. Deleyney, who seemed very much recovered from his bout of slight depression after that competition where he had addressed the entire corps on the delicate subject of his shortcomings, Laura asked Jon if he had realized how much time had actually passed.

"The way I see it, we're too busy, too pumped, or too tired to even look at a calendar or listen to what an announcer truly has to say when he is talking to the audience or even listen to anyone else when they talk about going home," he had answered thoughtfully, watching as the last of those who had fainted were checked out by the emergency medical crew that was on hand on the practice field for any of the ten corps practicing for the competition that evening. Laura knew Jon was right and time kept slipping by, placing The Knights in third place that evening. Third had been a consistent place for the corps nearly all summer, something the directors, although pleased they were still in the top three in their division, were disappointed about: The Knights would lose their record holding title for consecutive first place at every final for how many years Laura didn't even know.

At the moment, however, sweaty, disgruntled, and watching as the medical crew clapped a Knight on the back after giving him one last bottle of water, Laura wondered why she felt the way she did when it came to that precious moment in the evening between practice and dinner. Those minutes where the corps members could do whatever they wanted were loved and looked forward to: a chance to sit on the buses or in the grass and talk with friends, forgetting about how much one's muscles ached or head pounded. As Mr. Hamon yelled at the drumline and Courtney and Trygve started their walk across the field to the food trailer (always the signal practice was about to end), Laura was even more unhappy as she saw Andrew smirk as Jon tripped over his own two feet as he tried to catch up with Laura. The trumpet section was dismissed early, seeing as the sun wasn't going to get any cooler as it seemed to pause in it's descent in the west, and the low brass were about to follow suit. It gave Laura a smirk of her own in satisfaction as she heard Mr. Hamon take a deep breath to continue on his rant about the lack of attention.

"Andrew," she heard the director bark, "If your eyes don't meet mine this second and stay there for the next five minutes, you'll be wiping down all the harnesses after practice!"

Laura was too tired to giggle and paused to give Jon a moment to reach her side, her friend peeling a corner of his shirt away from his body and shaking out some sweat. He had become one of the most tan men of the corps over the summer, muscles toned and frame filling out. Although the trumpet wasn't as large nor as heavy as a snare or baritone, it was still enough to need to develop strong arms and upper body, especially because of the drill Mr. Hamon was putting them through. Endurance was as necessary as muscle, both of which Laura rivaled most of the men in excellence. She had an embarrassing tan; because she couldn't take off her own shirt, her arms were burned to a crisp yet the rest of her torso was as white as it had been during the winter. Her legs were just as tan as her arms, but like the rest of the corps, she had extremely white feet, the tan lines created from her socks and shoes hilarious and mortifying at the same time. Laura's face was bronze, her short hair pinned up under the dress hats The Knights wore for every practice, and she hadn't plucked her eyebrows or applied lip gloss in weeks. It was an attempt to be more manly, an attempt that, although it make her look terrible and negligent as a woman, helped the transformation into a man. It was a choice Laura made after Mr. Deleyney noticed a judge, while on the field observing the trumpet line, had taken an extra long look at Laura while he made his notes into his recorder. It worried the directors and, after Mr. Deleyney had pulled her aside to tell her this and give her one of his 'looks,' those expressions that made Laura worry and want to change everything that made her worry instantly. Jon had helped her with her decision, putting her tweezers and the little tube of strawberry lip gloss Laura dared bring with her in his own bag, stuffed in a sock, along with several other non-essential feminine items of Laura's. She didn't want him to go through embarrassment for her if one of the guys rummaged in his bag and found the items, but Jon insisted it would be better for her not only because Laura would be less likely to use them if she had to go into his bag but because Laura's luggage had been stolen and dug through by members of The Knights on two separate occasions.

"Wow," Jon said as he walked with Laura to where the volunteers were setting up dinner by the cook truck, "It looks like we're going to be having a light dinner tonight!"

"Is that a bad thing?" Laura asked, watching as the only things the volunteers were laying out were supplies for spaghetti on plastic tables, Chris's mother putting out plastic plates. "Besides, it's spaghetti. It's good for you, lots of carbs."

"Have you noticed we've had spaghetti before nearly every show?"

"Yeah, but Mr. Hamon just wants us to eat well," Laura answered, joining the line forming behind the steaming pots of pasta and tomato sauce. "Are you complaining about food, Jon?"

Jon didn't answer, calling Chris over to join him in line and, as Jon and Chris caught up, talking about practice and Trygve's trip down the bleacher stairs earlier that morning while going down to the field from the press box. Laura crossed her arms and waited. To be perfectly honest with herself, she was sick of spaghetti, too. As she watched the rest of the corps break from attention and section by section make their way over to the cook truck and join the line, she saw Jake get down from his podium to meet Mr. Hamon in the shade. Jake, the most muscular and bronze of all of them for the fact the only things he wore during practice were shoes, swimming trunks, and his dress hat, had really kept the morale of the corps up. When it was seemingly too hot to bear warm ups before practice, Jake cheered on and motivated the group to run their laps. When everyone all at once wanted to eat in the fast food restaurants the corps sometimes went to after performances before leaving town, Jake managed to save the spirits of the workers in the restaurant and make sure everyone got their food in a timely matter by creating fun games for some of the corps members to play in the parking lot, forming groups of Knights to go into, order, and leave the restaurant with their food without giving a single order. When The Knights were exhausted and snapping at one another on the bus, it only took Jake seconds to regain order and respect for others through their respect for him. It was a great feeling to see Jake smirk, attempting not to smile, after he ended the show in practices and performances, and it make Laura want to smile every time Jake did.

Thomas was another story, however. The past two weeks especially, he had been quiet, even more quiet than usual. He occasionally took off his shirt during practice, and when he turned his back to the corps, Laura thought she could see the light scars across his back from when Andrew and Matt had attacked him after the drum major audition. She always remembered that story when she saw him without his shirt, and didn't admire his handsome self as much as she thought she would. Laura wasn't sure if it was because she didn't care for him romantically any more or just because they hadn't talked in weeks and felt she was loosing touch, but Thomas was one of the last things on her mind. Even though he was one of the last things, though, he was always there. She had put the necklace he gave her, the little silver treble clef with an amethyst stone, in a tiny box, which was also in one of Jon's socks, and hadn't worn it for weeks. Thomas had stopped looking at her, and even avoided her, it seemed, at times, but it didn't bother Laura very much. She was exhausted most nights, especially after those shows in front of thousands of people, and was too busy thinking of other things to worry about Thomas. There was a time when she would dwell on anything Thomas had said or done, but now she felt completely worn when it came to the quiet, blue eyed drum major. Although he was now slightly tanned, and his hair was a little lighter blond after being bleached by the sun, Laura still saw Thomas as the person she met the day of her audition, and disliked her inability to see how he had changed.

* * *

Thomas joined Jake and Mr. Hamon in the shade created by Jake's podium as Mr. Deleyney followed Courtney and Paul down from the press box where they had been observing practice. Paul had not been on the field with his guard lately due to the rolled ankle he gained while teaching a dance move involving a jump. Getting up and down from the press box was an interesting feat and often Paul was in the press box from sun up to sun down simply because it was too difficult to make multiple trips. It was during this difficult time in Paul's life that the marching instructor proved helpful. For as much as Paul teased the instructor, Peter Hamon always made sure Paul could manage the stairs with his crutches. Although Paul would only be on crutches for one more week, Mr. Hamon kept a watchful eye on the guard instructor. There were jokes and nasty words exchanged, as usual, but it was a reassurance that not only were Paul and Peter both instructors for one of the best corps in the world of organized marching, but they were friends as well.

"Where is Trygve?" Courtney asked, looking around as she balanced her bag on a step of Jake's podium ladder and rearranged her drill books and various metronomes and tuners. Courtney and Trygve were very obviously still a couple, even though they kept their public displays of affection minimal. Her only answer to her question was a shrug from Mr. Deleyney and a smile as Paul and Mr. Hamon became involved in a deep discussion with Jake and Thomas about a cue Mr. Hamon didn't feel was correctly executed. The drumline was wandering off the field, broken from attention by the marching instructor before going over to meet with the drum majors, and over the whistling of birds in the trees along a side of the parking lot and the tapping of random sticks on drum heads the problem was fixed and the directors and drum majors walked together, all in step with one another except for the random rythym of Paul's crutches, to the cook truck for the last meal before the show that evening.

It would be the last show before semi-finals.

* * *

The last twenty sets.

It was what was running through Laura's head as she looked out into the completely filled stands and heard the music of the show bouncing off the stadium equipment and people to fill her ears as well. She passed through the line of bass drums along with six other trumpets, spinning a one hundred and fifty degrees to rest on her left knee, the trumpet line staggered to alternate movements between standing, leaning, kneeling, and standing again. It was one of the least difficult charts of the last movement, before the hero of the story, a trumpet player named Devon, would march out and greet his princess, who was a guard member dressed in a purple dress. Galen, the guardie dressed in drag, was one of the men who appreciated the chance to dress up and never missed an opportunity to talk with Laura about nails and hair if they were eating together. Devon would play a small two bar solo, place his trumpet on the ground, and catch Galen as he ran into Devon's arms. Devon's girlfriend was one of the volunteers the second half of the season and Laura could always imagine her bubbling laugh every time the catch was made. Devon would spin Galen, put him back on the ground, and Galen would run back to her 'kingdom,' which was a giant castle shape formed by the rest of the corps, which had moved away from Devon and his princess and made the formation. It wasn't the hardest set, to create the castle, but there was a complicated star pattern formed around the princess involving every line of instrument to pass one another several times in very tight spaces before expanding and contracting the formations to create one giant crown around Devon, who made his way into the middle of the formation to rejoin the princess as the guard surrounded them, enclosed by the rest of the corps.

Laura loved this part of the drill the most when she watched it on Mr. Hamon's software program while she had helped him print off and put together drill packets while her arm was hurt earlier in the winter season, but she didn't love marching it only because it was a dangerous move. There had been several accidents during practice the past few weeks, mostly due to lack of concentration, but the part Laura hated the most was when the snare line passed the trumpet line as the trumpets turned to briefly face the snares. She was right in front of Andrew and, every time she turned, Andrew would sneer at her. It was uncomfortable, but Laura dealt with and ignored the pettiness Andrew was still displaying and there was never an accident in practice involving any trumpets or any snares.

Until Andrew tripped.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Andrew, as Laura turned, tripped over his own feet and tipped forward over his snare, at least two steps off from his mark. Laura spun, trumpet to her mouth, prepared for Andrew's typical eye-lock and sneer, and her hands felt as if she had just hit a baseball wrong with a wooden bat. Her mouthpiece bashed into her lip, not unlike a previous moment that season during a winter practice, but the horror of her own mouth bleeding was nothing in comparison to what Andrew's face looked like after his nose collided with the bell of her trumpet. Blood sprayed and Andrew's snare rammed into Laura's legs and hips as he staggered before falling out of formation and hitting the ground. The corps members around Laura and Andrew improvised as best they could, trying their hardest to keep the formation as close as possible to what was written in order to not hurt anyone or themselves, but avoiding Andrew and Laura as much as they could. Laura stayed standing and fell back into formation, not feeling bad about leaving Andrew where he lay in the middle of a mess of ruined drill, bloody. Her legs hurt terribly and she was almost sure there was a rip or tear somewhere from where a snare lug pulled at the fabric of her pants, and she didn't play another note as she alternated between spitting and swallowing blood.

The show ended on the last chart, but instead of the princess and prince standing victoriously in the middle of the circling color guard with a resent fanfare of corps around the guard, Andrew shared Devon's and Galen's glory. As they posed dramatically on the end note, Andrew was left at the edge of the circle in a heap, struggling to get up but unable to because of the awkward angle of which his drum was laying on him and the tangle of harness with the cloth of his uniform. The gasp from the crowd and the murmurs and cries for someone to help the snare player nearly overcame the applause given from an otherwise pleased crowd. Laura was able to stand in formation and march off the field, blood dripping from her nose and face, but nothing as terrible as what Andrew had, who was being helped off the field by medics. And as much as Laura was happy with the otherwise flawless performance, she was also terrified about what the directors were going to say.

* * *

_Again, thanks for the patience. College is stressful: one year down, three and a half more to go until I become a band director. So, I'm helping out in the musical world in some way, just not through literature! I hope you've all been doing well and are ready for another chapter of Hearts in early June! I'll be in Europe for the month of May, so of course there will be no updates. Take care, leave a review if you would like, and Happy Reading!_


	59. And Then She Decided

_Hi! Well, after a month long tour of Europe, a week and a half interning with a two marching bands, and a move to the tropics for the summer, I'm back with a new chapter! The entire story is finished, on my computer, ready to be uploaded, so the wait is almost over. I would say there are only a handful of chapters left before you all know everything there is to know about Laura's season with The Knights. Just a reminder that, yes, there will be a sequel, however not until Hearts of Glass is edited and submitted to various agents/publishers for consideration for widespread publication. The version that might reach your bookshelf one day might be different than this one (only slightly, as I fix up drum corps vs. marching band issues and touch up a few scenes and plot issues), but it is because of you, dear readers, that I would like to share this story with more than just an online audience. Thanks again for your patience (especially those in the Facebook fan club for the message saying there was an update which never happened on time). I bring you: a new chapter!_

* * *

As a volunteer and Chris's mother bandaged Laura's face, the rest of the corps marched back out onto the field for the closing ceremony and the announcements relating to semi-finals. Jon had initially wanted to stay with Laura, but she could tell that, although his loyalty and friendship to her was unwavering, he desperately wanted to hear firsthand what rank The Knights would take going into the semi-finals. She had told him to go out with the rest of the section and be there for her, but after he refused to leave her side again, Chris's mother cleverly told Jon he was welcome to stay with Laura, but Laura would be changing out of her now-bloody uniform and have to sit still until her injuries were taken care of. Jon knew how much Laura hated it when anyone saw her in just the scraps of athletic fabric she wore under her uniform, as demonstrated by the day when Laura had had to change out of her uniform in one of The Knight's trailers during spring camp. Laura was grateful that Jon finally followed the rest of the corps into formation to leave the parking lot and get back to the field for line-up, pushing him away when he was going to give her a hug for fear of bloodying his uniform, too. She had no fear of insulting him anymore, experience showing her that even though Jon was insistent on staying with Laura during times like these (and there did seem to be a lot of them), he would always give Laura the space she needed, too.

She sat on the bus, in just athletic shorts and sports bra, tenderly pushing on the bruises already forming on her face. Chris's mother had gone to get her more water as the other volunteer, the girlfriend of the trumpet player playing the prince, sat with Laura, trying to make conversation. Laura wasn't much in the mood for talking, though, considering the state of her mouth and her mood. This was the second time Laura's face had taken a beating from her trumpet and, if she remembered correctly, Andrew had been involved in the first time in some way, too. At least Matt wasn't still with The Knights or she would have had to fear for herself after the corps was back on the bus, heading to the next city for the next competition. As it was, she was already going to be attacked for her commentary on what really happened and, depending on how the scores went, attacked in general. Laura had no clue how the judges would take the injury in regards to the show. It could show that one of the members was completely uncoordinated and didn't now the drill, thus docking The Knights valuable points. Or the judges could just take it was what it was: an accident. Either way, Laura knew she wasn't the only one nervous for the result of the show, uncertainty even stronger because of Andrew and Laura's run in.

If The Knights took anything less than fourth overall in the show, they would be hanging on the edge of a knife for a respectable rank for semi-finals. Any way the show went tonight, Laura reminded herself, The Knights would still be going to the semi-finals. They had never placed below third in any show so far that season, and Knights fans were hopeful the corps would pull through to another first place finish, just like "the glory days." Ever since the last year, when The Knights broke off their first place winning streak, everyone had acted like it was the worst thing in the world and that The Knights were no better than a junior high marching band. Laura thought it was ridiculous everyone was so on edge and wrapped up because they wanted first. There was the spirit of competition and then there was plain loosing focus of what Laura believed The Knights to be: a brotherhood of young musicians coming together to give the public an enjoyable show.

But wait, thought Laura as she became more and more aggravated, The Knights was a brotherhood. All men. No women. Laura, that only exception, was still hardly more than tolerated by a lot of the corps members, although they had gotten better about their attitude toward her at least in front of the directors. All this led her back to one of her worries, those thoughts that kept her up when everyone was asleep, hardly breathing as she mulled it over and over in her mind: would she be welcome to audition next season? What would she do without Jon? Without Peter and Tyler? Without, Laura dared think, the pale blond drum major? Laura thought that to believe with all her heart that Thomas had helped lead Laura into all this mess with brass and grass and bloody lips would be silly and girlish of her. Laura chose to audition for The Knights out of her own free will.

Unsticking the back of her legs from the bus seat, Laura got up and wandered up and down the bus aisle, hoping the rest of the corps would come back soon. Under orders not to leave the bus until Chris's mother had found a paramedic, all of which had seemed to have disappeared along with Andrew, Laura could hardly hear the results over the loudspeaker. The announcer was listing corps and, as he did, the crowd would cheer, the cheers becoming louder and more heated as time went on, but what those corps names were, Laura had no idea. Laura suspected Chris's mother wasn't just getting water or even finding a spare first aid worker... she was probably trying to find a good hiding spot in which to pounce on Mr. Deleyney when he came back from the field and attempt to convince him once more that the corps was no place for Laura. Chris's mother, Wilma, was a nice, wonderful, sweet lady most of the time, always offering a helping hand and adding her special touch to the spaghetti sauce, but, along with threatening to pull Chris from the corps if he had one more illness, she had approached Mr. Deleyney at least twice as far as Laura knew about pulling Laura from The Knight's ranks as well. Mr. Deleyney had not tried to make these conversations private. In fact, he usually let Wilma approach him while he was in with a group of Knights or the other directors as proof of their conversations. The general agreement was, although at least half the corps wasn't a fan of Laura, they wanted her to stay. All it meant to Laura was a confirmation that they loved their organization enough to tolerate a girl, that they were willing to take a dangerous risk for the sake of their sport. But it meant Wilma was also bothering Mr. Deleyney to the point that he wanted the corps to speak for themselves and not through him on their thoughts of Laura. Wilma had heard it all, from "Laura should march with us every season" to "I wish she didn't have to be here," but none of it had changed her opinion that Laura was someone to be watched over, coddled, and protected. Laura was disgusted with the entire thing, considering she had talked with the directors about this very same thing the past winter and had not allowed anyone else to treat her the way they did since the night Mr. Hamon showed her the princess costume and a show hat from her old marching band. Wilma, ignorant in Laura's minor accomplishment to halfway fit in, was the dull crowbar trying to pry her back out. And trying to talk with Chris about his mother didn't help the matter.

Deciding she felt worse than she looked after studying her reflection in the bus driver's mirror, Laura dared get off the bus, ignoring the volunteer stammering after her. As she stepped down off the last step, she watched an ambulance drive up, lights off and horn silent. To her dismay, she saw Wilma riding in the front, next to the young paramedic driving the vehicle. Off in the distance, she heard the announcer read off one more name and the crowd went absolutely wild in disagreement and disgust. As Laura heard these noises, the booing and cheering and jeering, she hardly had time to wonder what corps had just been listed off because she noticed the paramedic studying her closely. At first Laura felt insulted. She wasn't just a piece of meat to be ogled at! She was a woman and-

In horror, Laura realized her mistake. She hadn't put on other clothes, stepping off the bus in what she had been wearing, which left little to the question of what she was. As the paramedic stopped the ambulance, his face was one of confusion as Wilma, face contorted into a mask of concern hiding the triumph and displeasure Laura knew were there, leaped out of the vehicle, running to Laura with an emergency blanket and throwing it over her. Laura blushed and took the blanket, furious with herself.

Wilma gave the man the same glare she had been giving Laura and, wrapping an arm around her, admonished him for no apparent reason. Laura buried her head in her shoulder and fought both the urge to hit something or cry. The paramedic, although his smile faded slightly, commented that she was one pretty boy, then. Wilma shook Laura's shoulder, crunching her neck, and told the paramedic to either look at the injury or leave. The young man, hardly more than a few years older than Laura, stopped his chuckling and, although he still had a smirk on his face, grabbed the first aid kit out of his vehicle. Wilma steered Laura unwillingly, hands like bird's talons on it's prey, to the back of the ambulance.

The paramedic introduced himself as Wesley, sitting down on the edge of the back of the vehicle, motioning for Laura to do the same. Wilma stood guard over both of them and, for the first few minutes, Laura reluctantly let Wesley re-clean her wounds. Laura had a gash on the inside of her upper lip from her teeth and, even though she was pretty sure she would have to visit a dentist to make sure none of her teeth had suffered serious damage she couldn't see, all Laura had to worry about now was the horrible bruising Wesley warned her was going to stay for awhile. As Laura sat next to this man, she noticed how very unlike he was from Thomas. Wesley was bigger, dark hair, dark eyes, even darker skin. What little muscle she could see under the paramedic's white shirt was more than Thomas had, and Wes's hand was a little rougher than Thomas's as he was poking and prodding at her face. Laura was more aware than ever that she was so under dressed as the last rays of evening disappeared and, aside from the parking lot lights and the light in the back of the ambulance, it was completely dark. She tried to avoid swatting at mosquitoes too much, hoping Wesley would be done soon and leave, although Laura wasn't too keen on being alone with Chris's mother. Who, as Laura realized very suddenly, was no longer there. And Wesley was no longer touching her face. Looking around, bewildered, Laura noticed Wilma had wandered a little ways away, leaning against the bus Laura had come off of earlier, watching the trumpet player and paramedic with a sharp eye. Wesley, Laura noticed, was just looking at her, which made Laura clutch the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders.

"What are you doing with just a group of boys?" Wesley asked, his curiosity too great to hold the question back any longer. "Aren't there any other girls around here?"

"No," Laura answered, glaring. "I don't appreciate the joke. You know it's just a boy's corps. Are you done here?"

"Just a boy's corps? What?"

"You don't know a thing about drum corps, do you?" Laura snapped, realizing she must use some sort of lip muscle in her usual snarl because it was impossible to make her usual face of displeasure without grimacing a little in discomfort. Then, it dawned on her that he really didn't know anything about drum corps.

"I'm just paid to be here in case someone gets hurt, like you," Wes answered, smiling as he started to slowly put things he didn't even use back into the first aid kit. "What is it, like marching band?"

"Sure," Laura said, too disinterested in explaining what drum corps was to attempt a proper definition. "Forget what I said about an all boy's corps, then."

"Is that why you're the only attractive girl around, then?"

Laura was very much aware he was flirting with her and, shocked at herself, decided to let him flirt. What did it matter to her? If anything, it would give her a laugh to see Wilma's face. What would Chris's mother tell Mr. Deleyney the next time she attacked him? That Laura was flirting with a boy? Oh, big deal, Laura thought sarcastically, watching Wes smirk as she realized he knew she was watching him. Laura wondered again how very unlike Thomas he was and then realized: she didn't want this. She didn't want this sort of attention. It wasn't because Wilma was watching, or because she was basically just wrapped in a scratchy old blanket, or even because she wasn't interested in Wesley for anything more than his medical skills. It was because it wasn't from Thomas.

Memories flooded back to her... when Thomas had driven her home, when she had first talked to him, when he told her about his scars, Christmas, the necklace, when she finally had him in her life as more than a friend, when she had pushed him away... She hadn't thought about Thomas in weeks, even though she saw him every day. How had she accomplished it? Did she really leave so much of herself behind when she left with The Knights for the season tour that she had left the part of her heart that belonged to that pale silent drum major? Poor Thomas, how she had played with his heart... Laura realized that she had been just playing with him, playing with her own emotions, warping and twisting everything to suit her own need. She had loved him, or thought she had. Still unsure, Laura wasn't about to give up so easily on her feelings when they were being truly tested. Wesley, reaching a hand out to Laura's arm, was as shocked as Laura was as Wilma appeared out of nowhere, snatching Laura off the back of the ambulance. The bumper scraping her legs, Laura winced and then winced again as she struggled out of Wilma's grasp as Chris's mom let Wesley have it.

As Wilma dragged Laura back across the parking lot, commenting loudly that Wesley was going to be reported to his superior if he didn't leave within the next ten seconds, Laura heard the engine start and the ambulance pull away, tires crunching on gravel. She didn't look behind her shoulder back to what must have been a stricken and surprised Wesley. He really meant nothing to her, a figment of her imagination for all she would know if she tried hard enough to forget him, if she did to him what she had done to Thomas. Wilma was busy reprimanding Laura as well, telling her to get back on the bus and put on some clothes. Laura didn't even realize she still had the blanket from the ambulance until after she had folded it up and tried to stick it in her bag, realizing it wouldn't fit because she already had a blanket in there. Wilma and the other girl volunteer, who dared comment how cute the ambulance driver had been, kept a close eye on Laura, which wasn't necessary. Laura, dressed a Knight's shirt and black shorts, flip flops and her hair ruffled into a pixie style, leaned her head against the bus window. She was sitting in Jon's seat, her things in her own seat, thinking very hard about what she wanted to do once the rest of the corps got back to the bus.

* * *

Thomas walked next to Jake, the assistant drum major weary. The corps had only taken fourth, hardly enough for a respectable rank on their way into the semi-finals. Thomas knew as well as anyone that there were only three semi-final shows until Finals and, thus, The Knights only had three chances to prove their mettle until the big day... He had heard rumors from passing judges, from passing directors, even from other corps members as The Knights walked back to their buses that it wasn't just because of the major blunder at the end of the show involving two now-injured Knights but because of the show itself that The Knights were doing so poorly. A fairy tale theme? A guard member in a dress posing as a woman? There were too many little things that had already made the corps the laughing stock of the drum corps world this season, too many, and The Knights was losing more respect than ever imagined. Far from helping their image, their dramatic show turned humorous was embarrassing. Thomas never thought he would be embarrassed about being embarrassed, but he admitted to himself that, while conducting some of those sets, he was more than a bit ashamed of how twisted Mr. Hamon's take on the season's show was.

Plus, they were now out a snare player and possibly a trumpet player. Thomas heard after the show from Mr. Deleyney that Andrew had been taken to the hospital and would be joining Paul on the sidelines with a broken leg. How Laura was, no one had a clue, except a volunteer mother named Wilma, who was smirking in great satisfaction as Thomas overheard her tell another volunteer that the corps "little secret," as a few of the volunteers were calling Laura, had been flirting with the ambulance worker who had come to look at her injuries.

"The only thing hurt on that little thing was the look on her face as I pulled her away from that horrid young man," Wilma boasted, glancing over her shoulder pointedly at Laura before going back to her conversation.

Laura herself didn't take too long to find Thomas, eyes darting, searching him out in the crowd of Knights coming back to the buses. She hadn't even talked with Jon, giving him a quiet, desperate look of understanding as she pushed by him and through the throng of Knights heading onto the buses to change. There was definitely a large bruise forming right under her nose, as well as under her eyes, and Thomas had time to briefly wonder if the purple and silver shimmer from her neck was his gift to her before he had hands on his shoulders and a pair of lips attached to his.

* * *

_And there you have it! Another chapter will be up hopefully sooner than later. Thank you again for reading, thank you even more if you've left a review (I'll try to respond to as many as I can within the next week) and I hope you enjoyed it. I wish you all a happy summer marching season and Happy Reading! (I will admit part of the reason I hardly ever updated was because I was getting fed up of fanfiction . net, but now that I've seen they've redone their site and banished a few problems, I'll be frequenting much more often)._


	60. Enough

_Okay, first thing is first. Oh my freakin' goodness did this chapter take forever to write. Actually writing it took about an hour, but getting it posted, whew... I've had trouble with my Document Manager for a few weeks now, and a few weeks before I posted a few other stories I had been working on, life basically happened. I moved several times, including across countries. College started (and the life of a music ed. major isn't a cake walk) and there has hardly been time for homework, much less my poor novel... So, I will wholeheartedly apologize for the extreme delay. But, dear, patient readers, I have good news:_

_Hearts of Glass will be published!_

_I spoke with a publishing representative from a very good publishing company the other week and it's in the works! Of course, this means I'm editing (I can already tell you, the first five chapters aren't the chapters you remember: they are better, and that is the way the edit is going to go for the next few months...). I am also scouting for cover art. If you have any suggestions and access to Facebook, look up the fanclub and suggest ideas! Of course, I cannot use anything already licensed or belonging to someone else without their permission, though, but you already knew that. I would also like reader-input on the title: Hearts of Glass sounds like a cheesy romance novel, but it's been the project's name from the very beginning. What do you think? Keep it or find something new? These and other questions can be found on the fanclub group (and thank you again for those of you who helped create and maintain it; it was a fun surprise to find out there was a fanclub)!_

_So, please enjoy this chapter, leave reviews on what you would like to see regarding the questions if you don't feel like wandering on over to Facebook (although who ISN'T there nowadays, hehe...) and I am so happy to present the 60th chapter of Hearts of Glass to you!_

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Laura herself didn't take too long to find Thomas, eyes darting, searching him out in the crowd of Knights coming back to the buses. She hadn't even talked with Jon, giving him a quiet, desperate look of understanding as she pushed by him and through the throng of Knights heading onto the buses to change. There was definitely a large bruise forming right under her nose, as well as under her eyes, and Thomas had time to briefly wonder if the purple and silver shimmer from her neck was his gift to her before he had hands on his shoulders and a pair of lips attached to his.

"Laura," he said, pushing her away from him, hands clenched around her arms. "Wait- Laura! Laura. Why? What?"

Thomas wasn't making much sense as he first appeared angry, then helpless, looking around them for any hint anyone had seen them. Indeed, one or two people had, and those one or two people were now spreading the word, no doubt, and it would be all over the corps by the time the buses pulled out that their assistant drum major had just been attacked by fourth trumpet in the form of a kiss. Laura's open mouth quickly shut when Thomas, after closing his eyes and dipping his head to recollect himself, pushed her away even farther than arm's length, forcefully taking a step backwards himself. There was space enough between Thomas and Laura that people walked through their invisible barrier, not noticing the tension and surprise leaving the both of them silent and wary.

"I'm sor-"

"We'll talk about this later," Laura heard Thomas growl, his hands swooping as he tried to form some hand gesture to go along with whatever he was about to say before giving up and leaving Laura standing by the bus, alone. Laura watched him go, not realizing she hadn't been breathing until a long shuddering gasp flooded her lungs with tainted air; the bus sputtered into life next to her and exhausted flew from the pipes and surrounded Laura in a grey fog of pollution. It was a sharp scent, and Laura inhaled twice, purposely getting as much of the exhaust as possible. It calmed her, relaxed her tense muscles, and even though she knew it was poisonous air, she didn't mind because it took the edge off her thoughts, which were now racing through her mind.

The way he had looked at her after she had kissed him. The way he had looked while she had kissed him. They were two different things, most definitely two different things... When she had run up to him, flinging her bruised and battered self against his sweaty body, still in uniform, Thomas's blue eyes had widened in shock before disappearing behind closed lids, before Laura had felt his hands reach up from her elbows to nearly her shoulders, sliding up the length of her arm. Then, after the magical moment had passed, Thomas had become rough, scared, senseless. In a rare moment, he had lost control, lost any sense of passion Laura had tried to impress upon him with her sore lips.

When where they going to talk? Was Thomas going to tell Mr. Deleyney, or any of the other instructors? Did Laura just blow her last chance to be a respected member of the corps? Hadn't she told herself and others over and over again that she was over Thomas, that Thomas had nothing left in his heart for her, and that whatever had happened between them at Christmastime had been a mistake? Hadn't she tried to forget about the little necklace stashed away in the bottom of a sock in the bottom of Jon's bag? Or was Thomas just going to talk with her? Just talk face to face? When was the last time they had done that and it hadn't felt uncomfortable? It had always been uncomfortable, or at least nerve-wracking, in a way. When where they going to talk in private? Would they be in private? Would Thomas let her near him ever again?

"Lee! Get on the bus! We're leaving!"

It took Laura a moment to realize the random percussionist was yelling at her, and that she was one of the only people left in the parking lot. Wilma, Chris's snarky mother, was standing by the food truck that was ready to take off after the lead van turned out of the lot, giving her a disapproving glare. Had she seen that little display as well? First the ambulance worker, now Thomas? She was going to get a reputation with the volunteers if she wasn't careful. Wait, she already wasn't being careful. And the season was almost over, so what did it matter? Laura caught a snippet of someone saying something about fourth place as she passed by all the windows of people looking at her as she got on the proper bus and walked to her seat; The Knights weren't happy, but they were still going in the top five in the semi finals. That should be enough.

That was something Laura had always noticed about this corps: nothing was ever enough. But it matched her personality rather well. Even though so many things had happened to push Laura down, it was never enough to keep her there. She always had to try for more, no matter how many mistakes had been made by anyone involved in Laura's plans. As Laura slumped in her seat Jon had so kindly cleaned off for her, she knew she should have accepted the fact Thomas had still looked at her as enough. Now he apparently wasn't even interested in looking at her; she had seen him stalk off toward the vans, his luggage bag slung over one shoulder. He wasn't even going to be on the same bus as her.

One of these days, Laura thought, I'll have to decide enough is enough.

And what if one year with The Knights was enough for her?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Groggily, Laura pulled her head from Jon's shoulder, her usual pillow on the long nights between shows when the buses traveled hundreds of miles from one destination to another. She swore she had heard a loud popping sound, many of them, but they were too loud to be a part of a dream. The bus had stopped and pulled over, which in itself wasn't unusual. Often, if they were going to make it ahead of schedule to the practice and performance facilities with no pre-destined spot to rest, the buses would pull over much like truckers did when they had to rest, right off the major roadway and often at a rest stop. But, looking out the window at the darkness, Laura realized quickly that they hadn't stopped because they were making good time. A flicker of orange had appeared on the edge of the world outside the window: a fire.

"Knights, everyone up."

Mr. Hamon's voice, sharp yet strangely calm, was heard over the bus speakers as the bus driver was chittering away in hushed tones on his cellphone. Groans of protest and complaint filled the bus but were quickly silenced when the rest of the Knights, too, realized something was wrong. It was that natural sense of self-preservation, the human instinct to take in surroundings and tensions that ran so deep it was hardly noticeable except in the most dire of situations. This situation wasn't life threatening, but it most definitely wasn't safe.

"Up ahead on the interstate, there is a crash. The red you're seeing outside of the windows is from six cars, all flaming. Stay in your seats, stay quiet. Traffic is backed up and backing up behind us, so we're here for a little while."

Mr. Harmon pulled the microphone with it's curling cord away from his mouth as Mr. Deleyney, eyes bright and aware, whispered in the marching director's ear. The directors conversed quietly as the bus quickly became alive with mutterings and people craning their heads to get a better look at the flames. The guard director, crutches propped against his window, was audibly on the phone with law enforcement, reporting the crash that had undoubtedly been reported tens of times before Paul's phone call.

"Well, I hope everyone is okay," Jon said softly, nudging Laura's arm and smiling, always trying to be optimistic, even if his eyes were still clouded with sleep.

"Of course they're not," Chris mumbled from behind Jon, bitter. "With flames that high, its gotta be a tanker or something massive with someone who fell asleep behind the wheel. We're just lucky we we're far enough away from it and that everyone in front of us was smart enough to stop such a far distance away. What if someone's gas tank hasn't exploded yet? We're not too far away to not be hit with flying di-"

"What do you know of accidents like this?" Jon snapped, one of the first times Laura had ever heard him snarl at Chris. "I'm just trying not to think the worst, okay?"

"It doesn't do any good to be fruitlessly optimistic," Chris answered, just as bitterly, before Laura stepped in and told them both to knock it off. Chris's tousled hair shook as he clucked his disapproval, reminding Laura strongly of his mother, and disappeared back behind Jon's seat. Around them, Laura could hear Knights talking, praying, or just sitting silently. She wondered if a few people in the back, where the light of the flames wasn't yet strongly visible, had fallen asleep. Daring to crouch over her seat and pull her face above the head of the person in front of her, Laura saw, in the distance and through the tainted, massive windshield of the bus, that there were indeed several cars in flames, and one was a large transport vehicle. Luckily, Laura knew the bus she was on was the "leader" bus, and only one of the vans was up front, a guiding vehicle for the rest of The Knight's fleet, just two or three cars ahead of the bus in the traffic that was indeed bumper to bumper, but just two or three cars behind the edge of safety of the metal torch in the middle of the road. Laura found it interesting that no one was honking or screaming. Everyone in the vehicles were around them were quiet, for the most part. Occasionally there was a yell of someone out their car window toward the crash if there was anyone who needed help or from a driver to another driver to stay in their car, but there was very little panic. It was surprising.

Very soon, within a minute or two after the bus had stopped, firetrucks and police officers came speeding up the interstate on the other side of the crash, some of the vehicles parking in the ditch to surround the flames as much as possible and attack it from all angles with water and special foams and cameras. The hissing of the flames was hardly audible over the screeching of the sirens. Soon, there must have been nearly twenty rescue vehicles, with more on the way. Laura noticed the ambulances turned off their sirens first and several of them left after nearly a half hour of just sitting there, leaving without their lights flashing. That wasn't a good sign. It wasn't expected, though, with all that heat and smoke, for someone to survive.

Suddenly, a crackle from the bus speakers brought everyone's attention from their own thoughts to the front, where Mr. Hamon was still standing. The director quickly and harshly gestured for the driver to turn down the sound, and the director gestured angrily that he couldn't once Mr. Hamon snapped at him for the second time.

"We need to keep the frequency open for Van One! If they can't get through, what-"

Mr. Hamon's elbow was tugged and he sat back down next to Deleyney, head in his hands in failure. The driver tried apologizing, but stopped after he could tell it was no good and after Mr. Hamon had muttered something about it not being his fault. The entire bus could hear the message, carried over the frequencies the bus antennae could pick up.

"This is rescue department four, repeat, department four. Any count available?"

The female voice, calm and cool, was obviously a medic from one of the response stations and Laura leaned forward in her seat, anxious, even though she had no clue what was going on besides a fire that was potentially dangerous to her own well being, if it was not being controlled properly or if drivers had not been attentive enough to stop far enough away for other traffic to be out of harm's way.

"Department four," came a scratchy reply from someone Laura could only guess was a cop, his slur telling her he was a slightly tired cop. "No count yet, assumed six dead. At least six injured. Two utility vans, a transport truck, and three small passenger vehicles."

Laura heard Mr. Deleyney take a sharp intake of air and wondered why the directors were still so on edge. Then she remembered. At least one van went ahead of the lead bus, the guide-vehicle. The directors couldn't get a hold of the guide van. There were two vans in the flames.

Thomas was in one of the vans.

Slowly, Laura's senses came to a halt. It was as though her muscles had turned to old leather, her blood to gelatin, her bones to rubber. She couldn't hear anything but the pounding of what must have been her heart trying to stay at it's task of keeping her alive, and Laura couldn't feel her head fall into her hands. It was a moment like this where her hair would have fallen over her face, hiding the shock for a few moments from Jon, even if just for a second. But Jon could tell right away something had happened.

"Laura! Laura, what is it?"

She could feel her chest try to keep the air inside of her body, lungs refusing to let out a drop of the oxygen that was quickly being used up, leaving nothing but dioxide. Her head felt fuzzy, all of a sudden, one of the only feelings available to her as she couldn't bear the thought she was thinking.

"Jon, he's in one of the vans. After all- after the- he went- went and, to the- Jon, he-"

"Stop. Stop."

Jon pulled Laura in her seat to face him, grabbing her wrists and forcing them to take her hands away from her face. After a moment's struggle, Laura stopped and let Jon look into her eyes. His warm brown gaze, although fogged with concern, gave her the strength to say the dreaded words in one coherent sentence.

"Thomas is in one of the vans and the directors can't find the van ahead of us."

It took Jon just an instant to figure it out and his face reflected his disbelief.

"No, Laura, Thomas is okay. He's all right! How do you know this? The van is right a head of us!"

"It's not! Look! Look, out the windshield! Do you see the van?"

The guiding van, to be better spotted by the bus drivers, was a vibrant, jewel tone purple, to match The Knights' colors. In the flashing of the emergency vehicles, in the light of the fire, even though the smoke, the colors of all the cars were visible. Red car, green truck, blue truck, another red car, black car...

"No, nope, it's still okay," Jon said, unconvincing. "Just because we don't see it doesn't mean it's not, um, up there. Maybe it's still behind us. You know, maybe the van doesn't go ahead of the buses on the interstate: we're all going the same way. Maybe they just go ahead when, you know, we have to exit or something."

"We can't see the van and the directors- they- they can't find- oh, what did- what did I-"

Laura's frantic breathing came back, her minute of calm broken again by the debilitating waves of panic. She put her face back in her hands and Jon noticed a few of the Knights were looking at them, one of them rolling his eyes before turning back to watch the fire being extinguished slowly by the fire fighters. Laura wasn't exactly known for keeping a calm and level head about her the past week, especially in the past twenty four hours, so Jon couldn't help a little part of his thoughts that wished Laura would stop panicking. But he could practically read her thoughts: she blamed herself for Thomas getting into one of the vans, for not wanting to be on the bus. Thomas had wanted to avoid her at all costs and she hadn't seen what van he had gotten into, just seen him approach the three vans waiting by the cook truck and souvenir stand, waiting to head out.

"Stay. Try to breathe," Jon said, standing and squeezing his way past Laura, who had flung herself forward after his passing and wrapped her arms around her legs, stomach pressed against knees. It helped the creeping fear slow it's assault, just a bit.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Jon was told to sit back down numerous times before he reached the front of the bus, bending on one knee as best as he could in the small aisle next to Mr. Hamon's chair.

"Have you made contact with the van yet?" Jon asked, and his tone reminded himself strangely of Thomas, the missing drum major. Jake, the head major, was sitting next to Paul, the two of them quietly discussing the chance of anyone surviving the accident. The view out the window this close to the front of the bus was even more astonishing and horrible than from the middle of the bus.

"Wha- how did you know?"

Mr. Deleyney's surprise was as terrible as the timbre in Mr. Hamon's voice as he told Jon to go sit back down in his seat. Jon shook his head and tried to explain as, even in the dim light, he could tell Mr. Hamon's face was turning purple in anger.

"I can't; Laura noticed the purple lead van isn't in front of us and she doesn't think it's behind us. I mean, we don't think it is." Jon's amendment took a second, but it rang as though he had said it minutes ago and then nothing else. He continued, "Laura saw Thomas go to the vans after they had a conversation and she doesn't know what van he got in. She's scared."

As the directors were silent, their quiet betraying their own fears for where their lead van was and making it obvious they had not been able to get in contact with any of the passengers, Jake leaned forward, tapping Jon's back. The trumpet player turned and faced his drum major, who handed Jon his cell phone.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As the cry went up from the front of the bus, Mr. Hamon's voice booming for everyone to hear, Jon quietly handed the cellphone to Laura, who had unfolded from herself when Jon had approached her so silently through the noise from the directors. Her friend stood there and she couldn't bear to look at his face for fear of her own worries becoming firmly grounded. Mr. Hamon continued yelling, "You bastard! Charge your phone next time! And get that radio fixed! We were worried- I swear!" Laura, hardly hearing this, only registered that they had found the purple van.

Putting her ear to the phone, she whispered, "Hello?"

Thomas's voice, saying her name, was all she got, but it was enough.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

_Well, there you have it! Thank you for reading and please review! More about all this in later chapters, which will hopefully come sooner than this one! It's almost done, about four more chapters to go, I think... wow... Thank you again! Happy Reading!_


	61. The Difference Between Then And Now

As Laura waited next to the bus, the entire corps pulled over at the nearest rest stop as soon as the barricades had been let down on the highway, she held Jon's hand. The Knights were mulling around the crowded parking lot, many of them swarming in and out of bathrooms and resting under trees. No one had stayed to sleep on the bus, not after the excitement and fear flowing after the fire. After word had spread about the purple van lost ahead of the buses, the rumors swooped like the sparrows chattering in trees surrounding the rural rest stop.

"Really, Laura, calm down."

Jon shook his friend's hand reassuringly, gently warning her that she might start a scene if she kept sniffling. He had seen this girl go from indestructable to vunerable with a single word, knew Laura's habits and fears, but didn't understand a thing when it came to why Laura was still upset after finding out Thomas was okay.

"Either you love him or you don't, but you can't keep treating him like this," Jon said quietly, earning a glare from the girl attached to his arm. "Hear me out, Laura. You fell for him, hoping he would fall for you. When you finally got him, you misled him and pushed him away. Now you're in love again, after pretending he hasn't existed all summer. He might not be so welcome to see you after you gave him a surprise kiss and then caused chaos when you were the only Knight to notice the van was missing."

"Jon, you're supposed to be helping me, not making me feel worse!"

"I'm helping you by telling you what I'm seeing and I can't be the only one seeing these things."

"You're so frustrating," Laura stated bluntly, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms, still looking toward the parking lot entrance to when the purple van would arrive; they had to turn around and take several exits to reach the rest area they had passed about twenty minutes before the crash.

"You're confusing to any man, Laura," Jon stated, trying to be funny but failing. "And stop your look-out for the van: people are starting to notice how panicked you are."

"Really, Jon, you can go away now. I'm fine. Thanks for your help."

Laura's sarcasm grated on Jon's nerves. He had been more than patient with her, but the combination of extended travel exhaustion, stress for the upcoming Finals performance, and bitterness toward womankind in general brought on by Laura's irrational devotion to both loving and hating the blond drum major.

"You're kind of a creeper," Jon said before walking away, ignoring Laura's hurt and furious gaze.

It really didn't make any sense, none of it, Laura realized. All this time, practically all year, yearning after Thomas and then pushing him away. What was wrong with her? That irrational fear, the crankiness, the mind games and stress she both perpetuated and absorbed... None of it made sense. Laura could blame as much of it as she wanted on people not liking her, her own immaturity, and her inability to realize what she wanted. What she wanted was in the van pulling up the road into the rest stop, what she had wanted before and what she realize she wanted all along. Not just Thomas, but what he stood for, what Laura knew she was helping break apart.

Slowly, she turned around and got back on the bus, ignoring the rest of The Knights who were lifting their heads in interest and getting up to meet the van. Laura knew there wasn't much she could do without, indeed, looking like what Jon called 'a creeper.' She had never heard of that sort of person before, but knew what it meant. Indeed, there had been a lot of creepy things she had done and if Jon realized it, everyone else must realize it, too.

That was over.

Too late in the season, Laura realized her only focus, what should have been her focus all along, was doing well on the field.

..........................................

"Laura," Jon asked, "I need you to tell me what is wrong with you."

Finally, after nearly a week of evasive manuvers and feighning sleep, Laura was caught. She had tried to stay away from him, from everyone, even ducking Mr. Deleyney's questioning glances. The embarrassment of all she realized she had done caught up and the result was shame. Laura knew nothing else to do but throw herself into the field show, into her music. Music was one of the few ways to deal with heartbreak, to raise spirits, and, as Laura was realizing, to drown the drowning feeling deep in her stomach. The drowning feeling, the sinking and breathless realization of her immaturity, was all she chose to cling to. She wanted it to be one of the few feelings she felt until they arrived at the stadium for Finals, which was only a day away.

"Seriously, I'm fine," Laura responded, unable to get up and leave while still bent over her trumpet, cleaning out the spit and buffing off the dirt. She wished he hadn't picked this moment, of all the ones he could have taken advantage of, to talk about her feelings. She had felt better today, better than most days, hardly thinking of herself or what she had done. It wasn't necessary to dig all this up now, was it?

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," Laura responded, getting a little icy. "Not too bad, anyway, for a creeper."

Jon rolled his eyes and leaned against the bus. It was a hot day, mid August, and some of the only shade to find was in the shadows of the buses in the parking lot. Laura had found a semi-shady area away from the rest of the corp and had sat down to rest her shaking muscles. They had been practicing a new round of possible routines, the directors undecided in their course of action and thus making The Knights run through all of them. The result had been confusion, slight frustration, but Laura had willingly thrown herself into the drill charts. Not even her wrist, the old break-and-sprain as she liked to call it, was bothering her today; Laura's focus had been entirely on the routine.

"Don't hold onto that. Come on! You knew what I meant."

"No, what did you mean? If it was to embarrass me, you said the right thing."

"It was just getting a little obsessive."

"Jon, I know that one of the reasons I auditioned for this corps, to go through all the chaos of getting into a male corps and putting up with all the crap was to get to know Thomas. I basically followed a guy into a long term commitment. Not to one another, but to something I signed up for and can't easily get out of."

"That was one reason, yeah, but you loved The Knights. You liked this corps. Now, if you hated it here, it would be different, but you like this stuff just as much as the rest of us. It wasn't just Thomas."

Laura rolled her eyes, snapping the lid shut on her trumpet case and standing, ignoring cracking knees.

"I followed an obsession. Thomas was in the front of my mind most of this time, since I joined The Knights. I thought I really cared for him. When I finally had him, I got scared and pushed him away, but I also think it could have been because I did get him. I felt like I was chasing a dream, Jon, and he was that guy on the unicorn under the rainbow. I got to him and then realized that everything was nonsense, that I didn't want it after all, and got out. Now that I don't have him again, I want him back. It's stupid."

"Laura, every girl has her dream guy, okay? Every girl I've ever known has done pretty much this same thing, more or less. I don't know a ton about girls, but I'm assuming that they consider these guys as goals. They reach the goal and then move on. You simply, well..."

"See, you can't put it into words. No, wait, you can. Just one word: creeper."

She resisted the urge to laugh goodheartedly at the fact there was bus dust all over the back of Jon's shirt and a mark from where he had rested against the cool metal, but there was little good in her heart for Jon at the moment. Grabbing the handle of the trumpet case, Laura walked away to where Mr. Hamon was calling the corps together for an early dinner before everyone would start to load the bus, on their way to Finals.

"Our friendship has seemed to take a backseat to this obsession," Jon called after her, putting as much spite into his voice as he could without attracting too much attention to himself. "You obviously don't care about me."

"Jon," Laura said, turning around for a moment before continuing on her way, "I don't know if our friendship is something to throw into all of this mess right now. It's already a mess."

As she continued walking away, masculine short hair contrasting with feminine muscular legs, Jon wondered which mess Laura meant: their friendship or her feelings.

...........................................

The Knights were due to arrive at the stadium by 8pm, which gave Jon about an hour before his time was up. It was his goal, before the flags and other buses of other corps came into view and the focus had to be entirely devoted to performing, to make peace with Laura.

"I know you wanted to move seats," he said quietly, trying to keep accusation from his voice.

"And I knew it would be immature to do so," was the equally quiet response, devoid of emotion.

"Good," was the only thing Jon knew to say, knew what to say. She wasn't going to make it easy, was she?

"No," Laura answered, surprising Jon beyond his wits.

"What?"

"No, I'm not going to forgive you."

"Well, good," Jon said, raising an eyebrow, wondering if he should just give up. "I wasn't going to apologize. I stick by what I say."

"Good, because there isn't anything to forgive."

It was an answer that surprised Jon once again. Confused by the lack of sarcasm in her voice, he glanced over and saw a trace of a smile on Laura's face.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked carefully, encouraged by the glimmer of hope that Laura might be turning back to her normal self.

"No, I just want to say that, if you hadn't said what you did the other night, I would still probably be a nervous wreck, just as obsessive and creepy."

"I thought you were going to let that go!"

"I didn't say forget, I said forgive," Laura chuckled. "I'm still frustrated about it, but I think I've burned off enough anger and worry on the field that I won't have any energy to think about anything else but Finals."

"Good plan."

"I realize, looking back the past few months-"

"Oh, don't do that!" Jon exclaimed in a playful groan, letting Laura nudge him before she continued.

"I realize that practically every time I was focused on the corps, things were going okay. Whenever I was focused on Thomas, things went wrong. I think I act differently when I think about him."

"Well, that's only natural for girls who like guys."

"For not knowing much about girls, you sure seem to know what is natural for them."

"For not wanting to talk about it all, I think you actually do want to talk."

Jon and Laura smiled at one another, the smile growing wider and wider until they cried at the same time, "Bus hug!"

"You guys made up?"

Chris' voice came from the backseat, groggy.

"Well, were we ever fighting?"

"Laura just seemed to be acting weird," Chris replied to Jon, winking at Laura as he woke up from his nap. "But, if we're having bus hugs, I want one!"

Jon and Laura jumped up from their seat and crashed into Chris and his seat partner, less hugging and more failing happening as the friends laughed and joked.

"Hey," said the metalic voice over the intercom, "If we're all done being immature, we can sit back down and get some orders, ya?"

Everyone returned to their seat and sat back down, Laura muttering something about being done with immaturity with humor in her voice. Mr. Hamon was standing up in front of the bus with a clipboard, mustard on his shirt, a look in his eye that meant he was trying to be serious but too energetic to actually succeed. Something exciting was about to happen.

"Okay, Knights, we're just a few minutes away from the stadium we're going to be performing at, the Hubert K. Millinium stadium. No practicing, so leave the instruments on the buses and vans, and we're just going to take a quick walk around and then head off to our hotel, okay? We have all day tomorrow to practice and get used to our surroundings."

"We get a hotel?"

Jon was shushed by practically everyone around them, Laura grabbing his hand so he didn't feel too bad. No good spirits were broken, though, because everyone was catching the excitement.

"Be proud," Mr. Hamon continued, finally breaking into a grin. "We're here, we're going to do great, and we're not going to leave with any less than first place!"

"Lets kick some ass!" yelled one member in the front, causing even more of a ruckus than what Mr. Hamon's little speech had done. Soon the bus was practically out of control, but everyone quieted for a moment when they saw the stadium growing bigger and bigger through the windows, the bus finally pulling into the already crowded parking lot.

It wasn't quiet for long, the noise increasing as people started singing The Knights corps song in atonal voices. Laura and Jon hugged one more time before joining in with the merrymaking.

Nothing could have felt better.

* * *

_Too much has happened to go into a ton of detail: 1. Moved and am about to move again, 2. College has been insane as I changed my major from music ed. to writing, 3. Signed the paperwork to get Hearts of Glass published, 4. Have been focusing more on the edit and rework on Hearts than the chapter updates (for which I apologize), and 5. I live in the Red River Valley, which has undergone a ton of natural disaster, including a record breaking flood. We have been evacuated once, will probably be evacuated again by next week, the school semester is all messed up, and sandbagging in the snow and rain is really horrible but needed to save the community. Please keep your thoughts with the community as we go through this difficult time. Thank you, readers! Really, I can't tell you how amazing you all are for tolerating my sporadic updates, for loving this story enough to encourage me to publish it, and for letting these characters into your hearts. I won't promise the next time I will update, hopefully it will be soon, and thank you in advance for those who will respectfully review. You guys are awesome!_


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